


All In His Eyes

by Rinichey



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bite Kink, Drinking, Fluff, Homophobia, Lime, M/M, Marking, Murder, Pining, Sex scenes not shown, awkward boys, learning how to spook
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2019-08-17 15:26:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16519079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinichey/pseuds/Rinichey
Summary: Liam didn't know Oz very well, enough that he didn't register on his radar most of the time. When an accidental run-in allows the two an opportunity to get to know one another better, Liam takes a chance on the fear, only to slowly realize that perhaps they'd crossed paths during a time Liam swore to forget...





	1. The Death of—

**Author's Note:**

> I really shouldn't be working on a third Monster Prom story amidst my other two *wheezes* but alas, I can't help the itch that is writing Liam. It's just too much fun.
> 
> As with Titans Among Us, the update schedule for this story will be sporadic as Trauma Stitched with Love is my first priority, but I would love to write this story if anyone wants to read it! Please leave kudos and feedback!

Everything should have hurt. His legs wobbled with each shaky step; each one a risk he took on whether he’d be able to support himself or his weight would be too great and it’d be the end of his journey. His breathing was shallow and raspy, with lines of dry blood trailing down his lips to show the path his once fresh blood flowed. He pressed his hands on any wall he could find to steady himself, leaving smeared pictures of blood before his hand fell from gravity being too great. It was hard to see through the blackened eyes he’d acquired, his body purple and black with large, blotchy bruises. His best clothes were in disarray; ripped, torn, bloodied and destroyed.

He should have been crying out in agony like he was earlier when the cuts were fresh and the blood hot and sticky. He should have had no strength to keep walking, to just fall to his knees and sob bitterly at his fate. He should have called for help, to rasp on the nearest door and allow the hospitable figures to take care of his wounds.

But he felt nothing.

Nothing. Just like a night where no sound could be heard. Just like a bowl empty of its nutrients. Just like his soul. He was nothing.

Perhaps the pain was so great it was numbing, or maybe the part of his nervous system that felt pain had finally died. He didn’t know and he didn’t care to know. All he wanted was silence.

From stone to grass, his feet kept walking. No direction in mind, just keep walking till the earth cracks and swallows him whole. Even this far away he could still hear their jaunty music and imagine their smiling faces, their minds free of guilt from the accosted crimes they had committed. Fools, barbarians, _murderers_ , all of them. He felt only disgust twist his stomach for ever wanting to be a part of that filth.

Alas, his thoughts tumbled alongside his body when he finally lost the roll of the dice and his weight became too great for his legs. They buckled, sending him to the cold grass with a painful whimper. He tried to push himself back up, but only his arms shook. He couldn’t even raise his head up, fated to stare into the darkness for his last moments than the stars as he had wanted. Even close to death, folly fate wouldn’t give him one thing for him to smile upon.

Ah, how tired his eyes were. How numb his legs and arms grew; he could feel himself slipping now that he had nothing to do but rest. Fear should have been the only thing plaguing his mind, but he found peace instead. Finally, he would be rid of this world. Rid of all the ridicule, of all the mishaps and brutality he suffered.

In his last moments, he felt a twinge of anger, a sprinkle of malice. If only he could wipe the smug looks off their faces before he went, to see them cower in fear as he delivered onto them the same fate. But alas, that was not his role to play.

The curtains were drawing close for him.

Where did he go? The question weighed heavy on his tongue, melding the simmering anger into quiet remorse. Did he scare him away? Did he finally leave? Was he not good enough? More weight, his heart aching. He couldn’t be remorseful, there was no time.

Eyes closed, he let himself rest, submitting himself to the end when the sound of grass rustling startled him. No, he did not want help now. He didn’t want to be dragged back to that world, to have to endure it some more because of some foolish man wanting to be a saint. He gritted his teeth and hoped whatever was approaching him was a wild animal and that he would feel their teeth tear into his chest and finally give him that relief.

The rustling ceased, but he knew the figure loomed over him. Hope twinkled in his heart that perhaps it was him when a painful tap into his chest caused the air to exit his lungs, and he heard a deep voice. “How alive are you, boy?”

A man. Folly fate was at it again. His voice was raspy and gurgled with the blood leftover in his throat, his heart cold and empty. “Leave me. I wait for the reaper, now.”

“Then you have picked the wrong night to die. I believe he is still on vacation.” The man lightly chuckled, annoying him.

Of course, the luxury of dying alone in a field was too expensive for him. No, he had to die next to an annoying and inconsiderate man. “Then I shall wait until he comes. Leave me, I do not wish to be saved.”

The grass rustled, but not for joy at the man leaving. When he felt the man grab his wrist and lift his arm up he hissed in pain. “You linger on death’s door. Are you not afraid?”

If he could shake his head he would have. Then again, if he could move his body he would have taken his arm back and shoved the man off. “Fear? I fear nothing. I have seen the hellspawn walk among man and danced their fatal dance this night; a puppet for the audience to laugh and throw garbage at until my purpose was served and they severed my strings. A corpse was how I felt and a corpse I shall soon become.”

Anger simmered in his blood at his words, remembering the faces of all who had wronged him. No, that wasn’t how he wanted to go. He didn’t want to cling onto anger as if he could do something. Perhaps his words would finally get through to the man. By now he could have left this existence if he had just fallen asleep and he very much wanted to get back to it.

The man’s tone was questioning. “You sound as though you have been wronged.”

Now that made him smile, bitter and angry. “Wronged? Hah! They will say otherwise; for they are the victors and I the defeated. History shall be remembered through their words and not through the one they pushed into silence; the one that shall become the devil.”

He didn’t know why he was wasting what little breath he had left on this man, letting himself get even more enraged. But maybe he didn’t care to let slip a few things before he passed, for someone to know his tale.

“… Perhaps I can help rectify your situation.”

“You can?” The man’s words were tempting enough without a proposal. He had heard of mercy kills but never thought he’d be proposed one. It would definitely speed up the slow, agonizing death he was currently enduring.

“Of course. I can give you so much more than you could dream of. An introduction to a new world, a new life; you can start all over again.”

The offer should have enticed him, but he found himself quickly losing his faith with the man. It was worse than he had thought; he had run into a priest. He almost growled his next words. “I do not believe in imaginary gods nor wish to be preached to on my death bed.”

“You doubt now, but that is because you have been blinded to it. A cloth I can easily remove from your eyes.”

“Please, spare me your nonsense.” A violent cough racked his body as warm blood speckled the grass. “Either help me leave this world or go back to whence you came. I want nothing more from you.”

He heard the man breathe a sigh and his arm fall back to the ground. “Very well. I shall help you.”

Relief washed over him. Finally, he would find his peace. He almost asked how the man was going to kill him when he felt a cold hand push his head into the grass, while the other pulled back on his shoulder. A flutter of fear raced through him for just a moment; he was going to slit his throat. An effective way of killing someone, but he thought the man was going to stab his heart or strangle him.

His hands gripped the grass and his body locked up when he felt something wet lick up his neck; a tongue. The man’s voice was in his ears, he could hear his smile. “I could smell you miles away from how much blood you spilled. To think no one else found you before I did. Fate smiles down on me.”

His heart beat great at the words, and the flutter of fear transformed into a suffocating blanket. He was suddenly afraid. Very afraid of the man that he had been coercing with just minutes ago. Trusting a complete stranger with his body was not his smartest move. Even if it wouldn’t be his body anymore in a few minutes, he shuddered to think what the man had in store for his corpse.

His voice cracked as he tried to speak up only for the man’s hand to clamp down on his mouth, shushing him eerily. “No more words. The cloth shall soon fall.”

He had no idea what the man was referring to, only focusing on his own impending danger. He didn’t want to die like this. Not with this man. Not in this field. Not so pitifully.

It must have been absolute terror driving him to swat his arm up and into the face of the attacker with the last bit of strength he had. He tried to scramble to his feet, to get away from the threat when his arm was twisted backward and a low growl emanated through the air.

“Stubborn boy,” Was the last thing he heard before he felt the man’s teeth around his arm and the splintering pain of him breaking skin.

Finally, he collapsed.


	2. Grabbing a Bite

Liam never had a problem with Mondays. Days slipped by so fast that he could barely remember what day it was just as it looped and started all over. So when he checked his phone he wasn’t shocked that the weekend was over. Far from it, he had been waiting for the week to start. It meant fewer days he had to wait for the newest Yogurt Resort album coming out that Friday. He wouldn’t even have to skip school to wait in line; their band was so obscure there would be plenty of copies by the time the final bell rang.

Sliding out of his king-sized bed—which he purchased the second he had the money because sleeping in his coffin was so cliché it would keep him up at night—Liam conducted his normal morning routine. He selected one of many bowties he had laid out on his dresser, made sure his suspenders weren’t dirty before clipping them onto his pants and chose an outfit that said, ‘I put just enough effort into this to look cool without trying that hard’. Using his phone, he snapped a quick selfie after styling his hair to make sure it was pulled back neatly. His golden eyes and purple skin greeted him in the dull photo, one of the few, rare times he could see himself.

After concluding he looked to die for, Liam popped out of his room and into the kitchen. He had some time before the bus would come to his apartment complex, deciding to help himself to a bottle of blood Vera had gifted him a few weeks ago after she came back from her trip in France.

Upon opening the refrigerator, however, Liam scowled. Aside from a few bottles of soda he kept for optimum photo opportunities with friends, there wasn’t a single bottle left. Shit, he thought he had more, and with an irritated huff, he checked the freezer in case he accidentally threw a bottle in there. Nothing but a freezer-burned hot dog which he had taken from Scott a few weeks ago during one game night and completely forgot about.

Of course, being a vampire in the twenty-first century was much easier than it was centuries ago. Every gas station had at least two to three different brands of blood to choose from so it could be just as easy as walking a block to get a quick breakfast.

But Liam wasn’t like every other vampire and refused to pay for butchered, any-guy-off-the-street blood. The foul taste was bad enough, he swore off of the stuff decades ago after trying it once and almost puking from the taste alone.

Thus, he had no food.

Shutting the refrigerator, Liam floated over to one of the few plush chairs in his living room, sat down and pulled out his phone. While it was frowned upon to treat the living world as livestock for their consumption in this day and age, some companies had found ways to help them if pasteurized blood wasn’t on the menu. He happened to align himself with BLO+D, which gave monsters like him a backdoor into the database of every patient they had worked with, what their address was and blood type. He already had his filters on when going through the list, scrolling through several names that popped up on screen. He flipped through them all carelessly. It was always so hard to find the right artisanal craft blood he wanted, he could spend hours just staring at photos.

“What about you, Liam?”

“Hm?” He looked up from his screen, Miranda staring right at him. He had failed to realize that he wasn’t sitting in his living room anymore but in fact in the middle of the cafeteria. Guess he did spend hours just staring at photos.

Scott was already done with his food while Vera ate her quinoa in quiet, her eyes locked onto her phone just like he was doing before. Damien and Polly decided to sit at their own table for today, which didn’t bother him. Less loud voices to tune out.

“Prom, bro!” Scott yipped, his tail wagging enthusiastically behind him. “We’re all discussing our plans!”

Miranda’s hand touched her puffed out chest. “I’m waiting for my prince to arrive and ask me to prom. Of course, he’ll have to come with a palanquin made of gold, an abundance of jewels, a gorgeous dress, that I shall wear, and a multitude of serfs to carry us and attend to our every desire!”

“I’m going to hang with all of my friends and dance and party and have a great time!” Scott beamed. “Maybe even get a great workout doing it!”

“Prom?” Liam felt a familiar smirk work its way onto his lips. He set his phone on the table for the moment. “Heh, course you would go to such a mainstream event. I, however, will not be attending such a worthless array of awkward relationships and even more awkward social gatherings.”

“What?” Miranda and Scott breathed, their faces twisted in horror. “But it’s prom!”

“And? What excuse does that give it that I suddenly have to attend?” Liam lifted an eyebrow. “You see, I already have plans that night. I’m going to stay indoors, alone, relaxing with a canvas and a spectrum of paints, working on my next masterpiece whilst swayed by the melodic melodies that only I can appreciate, losing myself to the hypnotic lull of the promises of fantasy versus the crushing weight of reality!”

“So … you’re going … to …” Scott was having a hard time comprehending Liam’s words. Then again, even he was losing himself near the end of it. If brains were machines he’d for sure see smoke trailing out of Scott’s nose as it kicked into overdrive.

Miranda looked more disgusted than confused. “That’s horrible! Prom night shouldn’t be spent alone, doing whatever it was that you just said! It’s about love and romance and having a great time with those you care for.”

“It’s about capitalism or why else would they charge for entry?” Liam picked back up his phone, already bored with the conversation. “If they don’t care about the ‘love and romance’ aspect than neither do I. I’m above stereotypical high school events, not beneath them.”

“Aren’t you laying it on thick.” Vera finally glanced up from her phone. “What stick is up your ass?”

Liam took slight insult, but she was one of the few monsters who could tell when he was in a bad mood and not just being a prick. He let out a tired sigh, his forehead resting in his hand. “I need to go on a run tonight.”

“You run, Liam?” Liam knew he picked the wrong choice of words when Scott finally clicked back into the conversation. “I didn’t know! We should totally work out sometime, bro! I’ll get you so ripped you’ll never want to go back!”

“First off, take your masculinity ideals and shove them down your throat.” Liam almost hissed, telling himself to calm down. “Second, I’m not actually running! It’s a figure of speech; I have to eat.”

“So you run to the store?” Liam almost banged his head on the table at Scott’s thick-headedness. He was not in the mood to deal with him, especially with his hunger pains slowly resurfacing. The light-headedness, his quickness to anger, how everything faintly smelled of iron and the sensation of his stomach wrapping around itself into painful knots and tugging.

He chose to ignore Scott’s question and go back to his list, tapping on one human he glanced over earlier. He would have been pickier had he more time, but he didn’t want the hunger to become too great. The second the sun disappeared he would be off to find this, ‘Jose Rodriguez’ and never think about this for another few days.

~

Liam could remember a time when monsters and humans kept to themselves; when both ‘worlds’ were separate and stayed with their own kind. The humans were unaware of monster kind until just recently in the last century when monsters were sick of living in the dark and shadows. While the two kinds hadn’t mixed together into a harmonious drink, it was getting better from the last couple of decades. Monsters stayed in their cities and humans stayed in theirs, but both were aware of each other with frequent crossings. Halloween was especially ripe with monsters traveling to human cities to party and socialize with other monster human enthusiasts. Maybe in the next couple of decades every day could be just like Halloween. One could hope.

With the sun completely removed from the darkened sky, Liam used his balcony as a launching point to jump off and fly through the sky to his destination. It was always enjoyable to be this high up with the brightly lit streets and the cool air passing him by. Since school was in the day, however, he preferred to just take the bus and not worry about burning from the sun at such a high altitude, where it was even worse.

It was a rather short flight with his inhuman speed, touching down when he entered into suburbia. Aside from the street lights, Liam didn’t have to worry about hiding himself, the night being the perfect cover for his unique skin condition and fangs.

First, he would break in, then find the occupant more than likely in their bedroom. A quick dose of hypnotism would shut them up, give him his meal in peace and he’d be gone before they could snap out of their daze. That’s how he’d always done it and tonight would be no different.

Arriving at the house, Liam’s first strike was noticing the lack of light through the windows. While darkness was a vampire’s best friend, it would be a wasted night if he broke in only to discover the human was out. He could just wait for him in that situation but flying back home during the day would destroy his skin and he was dangerously low on moisturizer. Another thing Liam had to do asap.

 He peered into the front window of the establishment, noticing a shrouded figure stand awkwardly in the living room. He faintly smiled; prey spotted.

Feeling much more confident, Liam went back to the front door, easily finding a spare key under the rug of the doormat. Predictable; hopefully the blood didn’t taste as dull as the idea was to hide their key in the most gullible spot imaginable.

He silently slid the key in and unlocked the front door, stepping inside and closing the door with a creak. The figure, clearly spooked, turned in his direction and then immediately pulled the hood over their face farther down. They backed up. “Oh no …”

Liam wasn’t able to catch too good of a glimpse of their face, not that it mattered. He smirked. “’Oh no’ indeed. Don’t worry; I’m not here for your possessions. I’ve got something else in mind. Also, if I can give some advice, you really should hide your keys somewhere more creative than under your welcome mat. It’s terribly cliché.”

He advanced upon the figure, who was trying their hardest to keep their face hidden. They nearly tripped over the coffee table in the middle of the room and onto the wall, the perfect wingman for Liam. They held their hands up in defense. “W-wait a minute.”

Odd, that voice sounded familiar. Like he had heard it several times but he couldn’t link a face to the voice. It had to be the hunger distracting him with such pointless thoughts. He suddenly closed the gap between them, pinning their arms to the wall behind him. His fangs peeked out, letting his eyes take on a familiar glow. “Now, be good and hold still. I’m in a terrible mood.”

His right hand moved up to grasp the hood, ready to remove it and sink his fangs into the neck when their voice came out as an estranged cry. “Liam, it’s me! It’s Oz!”

He backed up at the cry, at first startled his hypnotism had failed him. Then the words hit him like a bag of bricks, pulling the hood off of the figure. White, petrified eyes and risen eyebrows stared back at him. Shock overtook his features, also shouting. “ _Oz_?”

A sudden burst of light took them off guard. Liam’s meal stood in the hallway, hand hovering above the light switch he just turned on, mouth gaping open. The man only needed to scream to get the other two screaming as well.

With a violent shove, Oz pushed Liam aside, diving for a shadowy corner between the couch and a coffee table. He disappeared into the darkness without a sound.

 Liam, however, didn’t have such an easy getaway. A puff of smoke hid his transformation into a bat, flapping hurriedly towards an exit only to smash into the window. He fluttered back unsteadily, dodging the projectile remote that luckily smashed through the window. He’d never flown faster in his life.

He didn’t dare change back until he was back on his balcony, slipping inside and falling into his chair. What the hell happened? Why was Oz standing in the same house Liam was targeting? How did he get in? What was he there for?

These questions filled his mind and left him scowling, wincing when his hand touched the growing red mark on his forehead. His stomach joined in on the torture when it reminded him he had failed to feed, the vampire letting out a small whimper. He would have to go back out again tomorrow, which meant he wasted his entire night on this escapade and that didn’t sit well with him at all.

With a low rumble, he pushed himself up from the chair and back to his bedroom, making a note on his phone. The next time he saw that manifestation of fear he was going to get his questions answered whether he wanted to or not.


	3. A Starved Alliance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please comment and tell me what you think!

Finding Oz was simple. Aside from the fact that they shared practically every class together, he usually sat alongside his friends when it came to lunch. He didn’t know Amira or Vicky personally, only getting the impression they were pretty thirsty for any monster that humored their flirtatious nature. He somewhat knew Brian thanks to his relationship with Damien, but nothing else aside from Damien telling him what a great ass he has. And Liam had to admit it was sculpted rather nicely.

But Oz? He knew some things about him just enough to get a feel for his personality. A shy monster, Oz seemed to linger more in the background of their crazy shenanigans than get himself into their messes. He called him shy, yet Liam had heard instances where it was the complete opposite.

 Miranda complained once about Oz blowing up the bathroom toilets to deliver a letter for her only to lose it when a pack of sharks tried to eat him. Polly was furious when Oz accidentally sent her to a no-fun zone dimension and while it ended well for her, she was still upset that it happened in the first place. Even Scott, who was the hardest to displease, moped one afternoon about missing lunch because Oz found a secret map, read it wrong and it let them out somewhere in Canada.

It was enough to intrigue him to try and catch Oz in the act, but every time he was around the fear would slink back or blush profusely. Really, he didn’t understand what was so humiliating about him watching.

As he came over to their table, the group had neared the end of a joke with the four of them laughing simultaneously. Liam didn’t care to try and interject himself naturally, not when he was this starved for blood.  He towered behind Oz, glowering. “I want a word with you.”

“Liam!” Oz nearly fell out of his seat; shrinking in size the longer Liam kept his stare on him.

Amira shot him a glare. “What? You can’t say please?”

“ _Now_!” He yelled, catching everyone’s attention in the lunchroom. In any other circumstance, he would have ushered him away in a calmer yet passive-aggressive manner. Right now he didn’t give a rat’s ass who heard him and was slightly relieved when Oz jumped out of his seat. He gestured for him to follow him to the library where they could have some peace and quiet.

He took the first seat as Oz reluctantly followed suit. “If you couldn’t tell, I’m extremely agitated at this moment. My irritation comes rather swiftly when I haven’t fed in a while and last night I was going to rid myself of this hunger when you just so happened to be in the same house I had targeted. Thanks to that, I failed to get a meal. So now I’m even more irritable and you’re looking more like a viable option to quell my hunger, so you better tell me why you were there before I decide this isn’t worth the discussion and sink my fangs into you.”

Oz’s cheeks turn bright red at his threat, his fingers fidgeting. Liam guessed he could understand Oz’s humiliation at the thought of him being eaten by a vampire in a public place. Not the best way to boost someone’s self-confidence. “Well, you might not believe me but … I also needed to feed last night.”

This was not the response Liam was expecting. His irritation morphed into curiosity, sitting a little straighter in his seat. “What do you mean?”

Oz sheepishly shrugged his shoulders. “Well, you know … I’m fear. Like, fear incarnate? And being fear itself I uh, have to live off of people’s fear. You know? I wasn’t feeling too hot so I decided to go and recharge and uh, well … that’s when you came into the house.”

It made sense that a being made of fear lived off of it, so there wasn’t much convincing Liam needed to accept his word. However, something bothered him about last night. His eyes narrowed. “So what part of standing in the man’s living room and fidgeting helped with that?”

Oz’s eye twitched, his phobias coming out and waving small fists at him. They garbled in a weird dialect that Oz seemed to understand, twitching even harder. “We-well … I don’t really … like … scaring people.”

That took Liam off guard. No, wait, maybe it hadn’t. Oz was a shy monster, so it made sense that he would be afraid of the very thing he needs to do, like a vampire who is afraid to feed. Liam was about to say how cliché Oz’s problem was when his stomach reeled like someone had stabbed a knife straight into it. He tried not to let the grimace show on his face but a hiss had gotten through. “You okay?”

“Really? You feel you have to ask?” Liam worked through the pain until it subsided, his attention back on Oz. He faintly smelled iron in Oz’s direction, trying to keep his thoughts off of his hunger. There was a strict no feeding policy for vampires or other carnivores at the school and Liam didn’t want to get put into detention for attacking a student in the library. “I’m guessing your hunger isn’t that dire?”

His eyes awkwardly smiled. “It’s less pain and more getting fatigued and sick. I’m feeling a little under the weather right now. It’ll just get worse if I don’t do something about it tonight.”

Liam winced when he felt another hunger pain twist his organs, deciding sitting at school for the rest of the day and being teased with all the blood around him wasn’t worth it. “Good luck with that.”

He got up from his seat, figuring out plans to get home when he heard Oz stand up too. “W-Wait!”

Liam whipped his head back, startling Oz. He was getting snappier with every second he had to be there. Oz looked like he was reconsidering his reason for stopping him, his patience wearing thin. “Are you going to say what you wanted or not?”

“Can I come with you? When you feed?” Oz sounded every bit as tense and awkward as he appeared. Liam wasn’t expecting his question, already cutting him off before he could even retort. “You make people afraid, right? I can just feed off of that or-or I could knock a lamp over and distract the human while you eat. It’ll be a win-win.”

He even gave a thumbs up, as if that would somehow sway Liam to agree. Under normal circumstances, Liam might have sat back down and discussed the pros and cons of the partnership. His hunger pains weren’t allowing him any freedom from the agony, though. “I can’t afford another accident.”

“There won’t be, I promise.” Oz lowered his hand. “So, can I come?”

It was a risk but Liam didn’t care at this point. “Fine.”

“Awesome, thanks!” Oz raised a hand for a high-five only to lower it when Liam just stared at it. “Here, let me give you my number. We can meet up at the victim’s house.”

They quickly exchanged numbers, Liam leaving Oz at the library as he made his way off campus and back to his place. He still wasn’t sure about his team-up or about what Oz had just told him. Then again, maybe something good could come from this and if not then he’d apologize to Oz later if he bit him out of sheer hunger.

~

When Liam touched down Oz was already hanging near the victim’s house. He had donned his hoodie again, looking up from his brightly lit phone and pushing himself off of the wall. “You’re early.”

Oz’s enticing scent almost staggered the vampire, who was having a hard time keeping his thoughts straight. He had never gone this long before without eating, his voice faintly raspy. “Indeed. Now, let’s get this over so we can go on with our nights.”

He made his way over to the door, checking the doormat. Sadly, a key did not wait for him and he wasn’t in the mood tonight to celebrate the lack of incompetence. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Liam cocked an eyebrow, wondering why Oz still lingered by the wall. “We need to get in somehow.”

“I can get us in.” Liam stood up as Oz walked over.

He offered his hand, Liam giving it a quizzical stare. “I’m not following.”

“No, I need you to take it or else I can’t take you with me.” Liam was interested in what Oz had planned. He reluctantly took his hand, allowing him to lead him down the steps to the door and back over to the wall where the roof created a slit of shadow from the streetlamps. He continued to guide Liam closer, his voice slightly nervous. “I haven’t actually done this with anyone else so I don’t really know what to expect. Just … don’t let go of my hand.”

With one step forward, Liam’s curiosity changed into awe when Oz’s body sunk into the shadow. He pulled on him repeatedly to step forward with him, especially since he had sunken half-way into the ground at that point. Liam followed eagerly, letting out a gasp when he felt the same pull on his feet, dragging him down. It was unpleasantly cold like he was dipping himself into the ocean on a winter’s night and it sent a shiver up his spine. He couldn’t stop being impressed by what he was experiencing until his head completely sunk into the shadows.

Liam saw nothing in the void. Nothing but the white outline of his arm and hand still attached to Oz, who practically shined in the darkness. His eyes shined like the sun, giving him another thumbs up as their feet touched something unknown and jumped upwards. Their ascent was slow and exhilarating at the same time, like the first steps on the moon, yet Liam couldn’t shake the goosebumps on his arms. Something or somethings were watching them. His body felt weightless unlit gravity fell back on him like a heavy blanket and darkened colors bloomed. They were inside the house, with Oz stepping away from a shadow in the corner and letting go of his hand.

Liam stared at his own hand for several seconds before over to Oz, his eyes feeling massive. “That was so cool …”

Oz’s eyes smiled. “Th-thanks. I think it’s kind of creepy.”

He never once thought Oz could warp through shadows. It made some sense and with this newfound information, Liam felt excitement rush through his veins. He had to know more. His excitement all died when his hunger pain came rearing its ugly head. He shuddered, arm across his stomach as his upper half fell forward. Oz whispered his name as Liam held up a hand, rising to his feet. “We need to find this human now before I bite into the first thing I see.”

He could smell another body in the house aside from Oz, motioning for him to follow. Since his feet never touched the ground he didn’t have to worry about creaks or squeaks, but Oz wasn’t so lucky. They both winced every time the hardwood floor signified his presence, with Liam’s patience growing very thin. They finally reached the door where the scent was the strongest, Liam turning to Oz. “Okay, so what do you do scare them?”

Oz moved in front of Liam and hugged the door. He was about to ask what he was doing when his head shifted like goop and retreated into his neck. Liam slightly gasped. So, he could also manipulate his body. The more Liam hung around Oz the more interested he became in him, wondering what other things the fear could do.

His head soon returned. “He’s sleeping. I think if we’re quiet we can get in without him waking up.”

“Don’t you want him awake?” Liam wasn’t understanding Oz’s train of thought. “So you can scare him?”

“Oh, oh right!” Liam was slowly losing confidence in his partner, unable to look past the growing fear in Oz’s eyes. “I should get on that.”

“It’s the reason you’re even here with me.” Liam grabbed the doorknob, spooking Oz when he gently pushed it open. He gestured for Oz to go first and the fear didn’t move. He continued to stare at Liam with confliction until he narrowed his eyes enough to get him moving.

Liam simply floated in behind him, rising a few inches higher as Oz tip-toed into the room. The human was tucked under his sheets, snoring away. Liam was practically drooling being this close to food, stopping himself from diving in and taking what he wanted. Oz had to feed too which held him back to watch him do his work. Just like he had found him last night, the monster fidgeted nervously, standing next to the human yet not doing anything to help their situation. Liam irritatingly whispered down, spooking Oz again. “Well?”

“Right,” Oz turned back to the human, but his hesitating hands and his poor posture told the vampire enough. He let out a large sigh and rasped his fist on the wall behind him, darting into the closet but keeping the door slightly open. He heard the human stir and sit up in bed in confusion. Since he wasn’t screaming he figured Oz had found a hiding spot too. Liam was tired of waiting; if Oz wouldn’t do his job he’d do it for him.

His fingers lightly pushed the closet door to draw the human’s attention to it, hearing footsteps come closer. “Hello?”

He saw the flesh-colored hand on the side of the door, ready for him when a sudden crash diverted his attention. The human swiveled around and Liam didn’t care to know what had happened. He seized the opportunity, locking his arms around the man’s shoulders and pulling back. The human let out a shrill cry that turned blood-curdling when Liam’s fangs sunk into the flesh of his lower neck.

The first lick of blood was enough to get him moaning, which truly told Liam just how starved he’d been. His stomach cried out in relief and pain to feel the warm blood trickle down his throat and into it, desperate to have more.

He felt his strength return to him, holding the man tighter as he continued to feed. His screams were white noise for all Liam cared, enjoying his meal in what felt like eons. Eventually, the screaming became whimpers and the whimpers turned into labored breathing. The man’s struggles ended and Liam had to eventually prop him up to continue feeding. When he finally removed his fangs he let the body drop, not caring that the man landed on his arm wrong or that he’d made a mess. He smeared his hand over his mouth to lick up the rest of the blood on him, feeling much more relaxed and soothed. Finally, he could be himself.

His attention then fixated on Oz, whose eyes seemed larger than normal and profusely blushing. Liam cocked an eyebrow; he didn’t get what was so embarrassing about feeding. “You weren’t much help.”

“I mean, I distracted him.” Oz motioned to the smashed vase on the ground. “He was about to find you.”

“That’s because I let him.” Liam droned. “Are you always that pathetic whenever you need to eat?”

Oz flinched. “Maybe. Kind of. Yeah.”

Liam shook his head. He should have known better than to take Oz with him. It could have been a lot worse but he would have already been on his way back home had he not been saddled with the fear. “Did you at least get something from that? How do you even feed?”

“I just need to be in a room with a lot of tension and fear.” Oz spun his finger as if the gesture would make more sense. “And yeah. It wasn’t a lot but I feel better.”

“Good. Maybe next time you can blunder and stand awkwardly by yourself.” Liam heard Oz sputter as he made his way out of the bedroom, hearing his footsteps catch up.

“W-Wait! But you helped me a lot! Can’t you give me another shot?”

“I just gave you a chance and you blew it. Horrendously, might I add.” Liam gave him an annoyed stare, having reached the living room.

“But I can do better! I can show you!”

“Oz, I’m honestly surprised you’ve lived this long if you’re this terrible at feeding. What could you possibly show me that would make me change my mind?” He almost hoped Oz would prove him wrong. If he couldn’t and Liam was truly right in his accusation he wouldn’t be able to stomach seeing the monster. Oz teetered on his emotions, Liam about ready to tell him to do something when he took his hand.

Liam wasn’t impressed until a massive blow of paranoia and fear punched through his chest. His body shook, his feet landing on the floor only to wobble and buckle under his weight. His other hand caught the wall, sucking in air he hadn’t needed for hundreds of years. His entire mind was shutting down on him, his voice louder than he anticipated when it crashed through his lips. “Stop, stop! Make it stop!”

Oz’s hand was yanked back and Liam loudly inhaled, his other hand joining its counterpart on the wall. He hadn’t felt such intensity in centuries, shuddering as the last of it drained out of his body. He gazed upon Oz with fresh eyes, who only cowered underneath them. “Why … why don’t you use that?”

“I don’t like using it.” Oz’s hand grabbed his other elbow, staring at the ground. “I don’t like seeing other monsters and humans look like you did.”

“What?” Liam lifted himself back up, taking his feet off the ground. “Are you serious? You have the perfect way to feed, yet you deny yourself from using it because of some moral standards?”

“Look, I just don’t like having to resort to it.” Oz’s eyes narrowed. “I want to learn how to scare others without needing to rely on it.”

Liam would have pushed further if this was something trivial. Instead, he thought about it for a bit. “Hm … wanting to abandon your powers to find new, creative ways to feed?” He could feel the cogs turning in his head, which in turn turned his lips into a small smile. “Sounds interesting, creative, challenging … cool.”

“So … you’ll help me again?” Oz’s tone seemed hopeful, Liam regaining a sense of thrill and excitement.

“I don’t see why not. It could be a fun challenge; one I’m more than eager to tackle.” Liam’s eyes settled on Oz. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be a scare master. An entity whose name is uttered through quivering lips, a being so frightful laying eyes upon said being would only cause catastrophic panic, ensuing chaos and a feast ripe for the taking!”

Liam didn’t notice the fist he pumped into the air, chest pushed out and his feet spread apart to create a stronger stance. Oz nervously chuckled. “Well, maybe not all of that stuff. I can do with being scarier.”

“Come now, Oz. It’s either go all the way or not.” Liam dropped his determined pose. “However, if I’m going to be helping you I want you to put your all into this too. None of this crap that you just did tonight.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Oz’s tone grew more excited. “Thank you so much, Liam! I promise I’ll do much better from now on!”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Liam unlocked the front door, helping himself out while Oz trailed behind. “We can talk more about this tomorrow. Until then, I’m off to enjoy the rest of my night.”

“All right. See ya later.” Oz gave him a simple wave as Liam took off into the sky. He was so happy to finally have his hunger pains stop, his head feeling much clearer and crisp. The night hadn’t turned out exactly how he had wanted but he could definitely see himself having fun with this project. While his personality was a bit sheepish for his tastes he did think Oz looked nice, perhaps a friendship could blossom from this as well.

Until then, Liam switched his thoughts to the rest of the night. When he entered back into his apartment it was to eerie silence, which he preferred. Unlike every other student apartment in the whole city, Liam had spent some extra cash to get a nice suite that actually had decent walls, so he didn’t have to worry about his loud neighbors or fights in the hall.

He strolled over to his record player, putting on some music while his attention switched to his easel holding a canvas he had been meaning to work on. Cracking his knuckles, he took his rightful position in front of the canvas, retrieved his paintbrush from a jar of discolored water and poured himself some paint onto his tray. This was how to relax on a school night. Just a canvas, his paints, his music and himself. He loved being alone.


	4. Finding A Muse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in so long! Been busy with other projects. 
> 
> As always, please comment if you like my work!

“You look tolerable.” Liam diverted his attention away from his Instagram profile. Vera sat down next to him for lunch, shrugging her purse into the empty seat beside her. “So? How did the night go? You never told me what happened.”

“Sorry about that. I got distracted working on my next masterpiece.” He set his phone down. “It was somewhat predictable with a few surprises thrown in. Oz was worse than I thought; unable to do anything in the situation. I basically had to do everything.”

“Eugh, nothing is worse than dead weight. I should know, I have to deal with it constantly in every business venture I set my sights on.” She looked just as bored as Liam, sneering at her snakes when they got too close to her spoon topped with quinoa. “So did you tell him how awful he was and to never speak to you again?”

“I got halfway through it when Oz delivered the worst panic attack I’d ever experienced.” He eyes lingered where Oz had grabbed him last night. “He wants to scare humans using other means and I can respect that. In light of that, I’ve become Oz’s mentor in the art of scaring.”

“You’re especially good at that.” Vera gave him a sly smile. “What with your tastes and preferences.”

Liam slightly glared at her, prompting a laugh from her. “Don’t give me that look. We’re both terrifying and rightfully so. You know I tease.”

His features softened; of all the monsters in their friend group, he felt Vera got him best. Not only were they devilishly attractive and knew fashion better than most monsters, but they also seemed to get one another on a deeper level. They might make jabs but Liam felt it was never as rough with the others. He was glad to call her friend.

His attention diverted over to Oz when he heard another laugh over at his table. He caught Oz sneaking a glance at him and quickly turning back around, his shoulders hunched. Hm, maybe he didn’t want to be caught. His eyes lingered on his back, not realizing just how long he’d been staring. “Vera, do you think Oz is cute?”

“Cute?” She mimicked, her gaze focusing on him. “I guess. Definitely not my type.”

“Not like Amira?” Liam’s eyes turned to the fiery red-head who was more than likely the one telling the joke.

“I like her aggression and her can-do attitude. Why get a man to do the job when a crazy bitch can do it just the same and even sexier.” Vera pursed her lips. “I’m not sure if we play too well together. The last time I asked her for advice my hair was full of slugs and Debbie Darnajur laughed at me, the bitch.” Her lips gained a devious smile and her own giggle. “She’s not laughing anymore.”

Liam was wondering what happened to Debbie, not that he cared about her or anything. He was almost thankful she was gone, now he didn’t have to awkwardly lean to the side to see the chalkboard thanks to her freakishly long neck. “Do you have your eyes set on Oz?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Liam took his eyes off of the table, bored with it. “I can appreciate natural beauty without being sexually attracted. Besides, I barely know him and what little I do doesn’t impress me.”

“Well, this could be your opportunity to mold him into something you do like.” Vera’s eyes only projected more of her sinister side. “You’re his mentor now. Imagine the things you could get him to do under the pretense that it’s all for the betterment of himself.”

Liam pondered her idea for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think I feel comfortable with that.”

“Maybe not now.” With lunch over the class was hurried to the auditorium to get into costume and rehearse lines. Having to get into costume every time seemed mundane and repetitious and it was. Liam, however, did like how he looked in his prince attire and didn’t see much of a reason to complain about it.

He waited in the back with the rest, hearing Miranda’s terrible acting skills behind the curtains. These were the moments he wished he didn’t have such attune hearing, flinching at her shrill screams as a sorry excuse for panic. Among the ear-bleeding performance, he heard something else, a soft giggle. He noticed Vicky away from the others, sitting on a crate with a journal in hand. She bit her lip, eyes full of lust and it was enough that Liam wanted to investigate.

“What are you doing?” He approached her nonchalantly, already try to peer over and glance at the journal.

Vicky tried to hide her work until he saw raw passion form in those crazed eyes. Her giggle was more devious. “Wanna see?”

Before Liam could answer she turned her journal around to show her work, proudly puffing out her chest. Liam’s thoughts derailed and crashed into a burning fire when he saw the contents, mouth agape and sputtering. It was a poorly drawn anime interpretation of him and Oz, or, rather, Liam biting into him and feeding. Rose petals were drawn everywhere that had space along with several sparkles, along with a quote, ‘L-Liam-sempai~’.

Words came to Liam but they came out like vomit. “ _Wh-What the hell—”_

“Like it? Oz told me you’re helping him with his ‘little problem’.” Vicky continued to giggle. “After that, I couldn’t help myself! You two would make such a cute couple.”

“ _I barely know him_.” Liam restated, grabbing the journal from Vicky’s hands. She sat up and peered over his shoulder. “And moreover, how _dare_ you draw me like I’m some fictional character in a romantic media you can manipulate to your heart’s content to get the romantic outcome your horniness desires!”

“So, you like it?” His blood boiled at Vicky’s teasing tone, eyes unable to tear away from the drawing.

“Hardly!” He sneered, applying his more critical eye to the piece. “As an artist myself, your work is far beyond any help. I mean, look at this neck. Is it two miles wide or seven? And why the sudden rose petals everywhere? Are we in a field? Did spring just come about? Are the sparkles natural sunlight or was Oz doused in a bucket of glitter before you decided to capture this moment? Also,” Liam eyed Vicky. “My nose isn’t that tiny. It’s practically microscopic! And are these supposed to be my eyes? Please, if monsters were to have faces to your proportions we’d all be walking nightmares!”

“Soooo your only problem is my drawing sucks?” Vicky wiggled her eyebrows. “Not the content?”

“Th-The content …” Liam went back to staring at the poorly drawn picture. His thoughts turned back to Oz blushing when he was done feeding from the human and suddenly imagined him underneath him, staring up at him in fascination. His cute neck all for him and for the taking.

His throat felt very parched, immediately putting a stop to those thoughts. He ripped the picture out of the journal, prompting Vicky to yell at him. “Clearly this piece is too volatile for the world to see. Thus, I must remedy this situation by disposing of it myself!”

“Give that back! I worked really hard on it!” Liam floated up high enough to get away while Vicky jumped for it, gave up and then kicked him in the shin.  He hissed, reeling in pain as Vicky puffed her cheeks. “You know what? Keep it! I’ll just make lots more.”

“At least work on your art skills first!” For extra immaturity, Vicky stuck out her tongue before trouncing off. Liam eyed the crumpled paper and stuffed into his pocket to then take care of the personal injury he sustained. Crazy Frankenstein monster. He was about to leave for the nurse when he heard a familiar voice on stage.

“Was it me that drove her off? Was I too lustful in my gaze? My stature too imposing? Alas, I cannot change how I feel, yet she flees whenever I come near. Tell me, what part of me scares her the most, so that I may change my ways? I only yearn now for her smile …”

Liam took a peek out from the curtains to watch Oz practice his lines on stage. The light shining down on him made his skin glow, the inverse of what Liam had seen the night before. He could only see the side of his face, which amounted to just one eye. But that eye spoke volumes. The sheer passion for this moment in time, the confidence radiating down to the happiness that shined in the corners. He could get lost in eyes like those, part of him almost wanted to if he hadn’t already.

 His cheeks glowed and his grip slightly tightened on the curtain, transfixed in watching Oz and Damien get into a spar. He wouldn’t say he was head over heels for Oz, that was so overused and he still barely knew him. His interest in him, however, blossomed and he solidified a fact in his mind. Oz could be more than just cute, he could also be handsome.

Maybe Vicky’s horribly drawn doodle wasn’t that far off.

When Oz and Damien were let off stage Oz came over to him. He composed himself, clearing his throat for extra emphasis. “You did well out there. I especially liked how you threw your sword half-way through fighting Damien. It just screamed angst and rebellion against scripts and stilted acting.”

“Th-thanks.” He could hear the delight in Oz’s voice, getting him to smile. “I was wondering if maybe we could schedule a time to meet up?”

“I’m mostly free unless I’m engrossed in a recreational activity and the muse calls to me. In which case I’m busy.”

“Well, there’s this new tea shop that opened up a few weeks ago. I’ve been wanting to go so badly but everyone’s been busy.” He seemed slightly nervous. “Maybe we can meet up there? Tomorrow after school?”

Was Oz asking him out on a date? Liam entertained the thought until he rejected it. This was purely for Oz’s benefit. “That works.”

“Really?” Excitement sprung in Oz’s eyes. “Cool! I’ll text you the address tonight!”

Oz was then called away by Amira, darting off to go join her and Brian. Liam felt a little uneasy, yet he sort of liked the feeling.

As school ended and Liam went home he remembered the crappy drawing in his pocket. He smoothed out the page, giving it a hard stare. If Vicky had spent more than five minutes on this piece then truly she had no talent to begin with, letting out a huff. He could do far better than this with his eyes closed.

Filled with a sudden determination, Liam went over to his art studio, taking down his recent project and setting up a smaller, new canvas to work with. He smiled to himself as he picked out the right colors. A quick moment of his time and he’d have another masterpiece on his hands, one that, when shown to Vicky, would surely make her cry tears of beauty and beg him to teach her. Why the more Liam thought about it, he was such a wealth of knowledge and talents that he could easily create a harem of desperate, begging students to fill them with his seeds of knowledge. Liam had to stop and think on that thought for a good minute. Maybe that wasn’t the best choice of words.

Eyeing the drawing, Liam felt slight disgust in the way Vicky drew Oz. He looked just as goofy, but she had done the eyes all wrong. They were not only disproportional but they looked vacant and empty, like the eyes of a doll.

Dipping his brush into the paint, Liam set to work, starting with the outline. Once perfected, he went in to work on the eyes. Upon his first attempt, Liam was immediately dissatisfied with the outcome. Too far apart, he concluded, and wiped away the fresh paint before trying again. Now they were too close together, applying the same cloth and going in again. Each and every time there was something wrong with them, or they didn’t capture any sort of emotion and depth like his eyes had.

Liam practically growled at his latest attempt, picking up his cloth to feel paint smear his fingers. He set the cloth down, realizing it was practically covered in white paint and that his tube of paint was nearly empty. His eyes looked at the clock in his kitchen, gaping when two hours had passed. Two whole hours on just the eyes.

Liam had never met a challenge quite like this, only he didn’t feel the fiery spirits he normally did whenever it came to challenging the status quo. He would get this right, picking up the rag to wash off both it and his hands. He ran his hands under the cool water, his eyes never leaving the unfinished portrait.

What could he be doing wrong? Was he too tired? Too out of touch with his muse? Had Vicky’s drawing horrendously scarred him and his ability to draw? No, that last one sounded stupid.

Perhaps this was because Liam didn’t know Oz well enough. His eyes lit up as the stress oozed off his shoulders. That must be the reason. He was failing because he did not understand what it was he was trying to recreate. What a fool he had been but a fool he would no longer be. He would get to know those eyes of his so well that recreating his face would become child’s play. He was Liam De Lioncourt, the self-renowned hipster of Spooky High and lover of arts. If he couldn’t complete a simple portrait of a monster he’d turn in his paintbrush.

Liam could almost taste the victory and with that he finished cleaning his hands, put his cloth away and draped a cloth over the portrait. Enough painting for tonight, he had a muse to interact with tomorrow.


	5. Bloody Pears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to the subject matter later on, the story will be showing graphic depictions of violence and torture and will be given the following warning. So I suggest getting off here if you're squeamish because while there won't be a lot of violence, the stuff that is shown isn't pretty. 
> 
> As always, please comment and give a kudo if you like the story!

Fall had just come around the corner, kissing goodbye their bountiful summer crops and welcoming in cauliflower, parsnips, and broccoli. The town had begun preparations for their annual fall festival, with paper decorations placed near windows and women sitting around fireplaces, busy creating colorful garments for their families to wear.

For him, it meant another chance to wow the town with his amazing artistic talent. He could hear them now, their excited whispers and praises at his fabulous new piece. This was what he lived for, the adoration of the public waiting on bated breath for his next masterpiece.

In light of the changing winds, the man decided to take a stroll down the darkened streets, cane swinging on his wrist. He towered over many men and some called him lanky for it. It only helped serve his purpose better of staring down at the common folk. His cape fluttered behind him with every prideful step, wondering what inspiration would come and sweetly sing in his ear.

His boots clicked on the stone street, the only pair to be heard. It was like this for some time until he heard another pair. The man turned to see who else was enjoying the dark night to find no one. The man pursed his lips, attributing the noise to his mind playing tricks on him. His boots clicked once more as he continued his stroll. Again, the second pair clicked.

He swiveled on his heels, no one in sight.

“Who’s there?” His voice tried to be stern. The greatest fear of all is the fear of the unknown, deciding to cut his walk short and hurry home.

Every step he took he heard the lone pair right with him, stealing hurried glances at the empty street he passed. It wasn’t until he reached his house, unlocked the wooden door and swung it shut did the man breathe.

“Lumiere Charcoff …”

The voice frightened Lumiere, pressing his back up against the door. A silhouette waited for him in the shadows of his house. His hand snatched the oil lantern on the nearby wooden table, lighting it. “Show yourself!”

Light fell on the silhouette revealing a cloaked individual. The hood was pulled down far enough to hide the intruder’s face, encased in black robes with blood red accents at the ends. Its voice was grave and slow. “It has been a while. Tell me, how fares your family? Did Sheryl ever get rid of that nasty cold? How about your son, Marcus? Did his boat make it up the river? And sweet Sasha, has her hand been wedded to that wealthy aristocrat?”

“H-How do you know of my family?” Lumiere held his cane in front of him to keep something between them.

“Come now, do you not recognize my voice?” The robed figure moved closer yet their shoes never clicked. Its robes fluttered centimeters off the ground. “You always said I was a natural listener…”

The hood fell away, revealing pale purple skin and glowing, yellow eyes. The fangs protruding from the young man’s lips had Lumiere pale, rasping. “A—!”

The lantern smashed on the ground, the flame licking at the wooden floor. The vampire had Lumiere by the throat, hissing. “ _Never_ speak of that name. The young man you once knew died that night when you treasonous bunch forfeited my life! I waited months for my vengeance, starting with the one who issued the cry for bloodshed …”

“Pl-Please,” Lumiere choked, hands clawing at the firm one around his neck. “It was a mistake! W-We never meant—!”

“Never meant?” The vampire mocked, tightening his hold around the man. “You killed a young man! I am this because of your malicious deeds! You do not get the privilege to try and sweep my death under the rug like everyone else whose lives you have tossed away at the slightest hesitation of your artistic prowess!”

Lumiere’s feet touched the ground. His eyes and grin were satanic. “I have seen many things in the months I have been away from home. Hell is real, Lumiere, and it has a special place for you and all your little peons.”

Lumiere’s heart beat fast, stuttering. “Y-You monster! Demon! Let God smite you down where you stand! Begone!”

The vampire let out a hearty laugh, Lumiere shuddering at the hollow ringing of insanity in it. “Hm, yes, I am a monster now, am I not? Unlike your gods, _I_ am real, and every other creature that goes bump in the night …”

Sweat formed on Lumiere’s brow, unable to contain his shaking any longer. The vampire seemed to get a kick out of his fear, grin falling into a smirk. “But it does not have to be this way. There is something you have that I want back.”

“A-anything!” He cried out. “Take whatever you want! Money, my works, even my daughter o-or my son!”

“Please, I want none of that filth,” The vampire hissed, edging closer. His voice in Lumiere’s ears felt like a snake slithering deep inside. “I want that which you stole from me that very same night. Where is my painting, Lumiere?”

Panic wretched his heart. “I-I do not have it. I never saw the painting!”

Anger flared in the vampire’s eyes, tightening his hold. “Lies! One of you must have it! You were all conspiring against me! Tell me where it is!”

“I speak the truth!” Lumiere gawked at the end, making wretched noises as he tried to breathe.

“If you do not have it, then who does? Answer me!”

“I-I do not—!” His voice turned raspy and weak, his face turning a shade of blue.

The vampire snarled, his eyes brightening. “ _You will tell me who has my painting_! Where is it? Which one of you has it?”

With one look into the vampire’s eyes, Lumiere went limp. His eyes dulled, voice low. “I do not know …”

This wasn’t the answer the vampire wanted. He let out an enraged yell. “Lies! You must know! Tell me! _Tell me_!”

“It knows nothing,” The vampire whipped its head to the side, turning its anger onto the new presence in the room. A tall, pale figure walked out of the shadows, its hair loosely falling down its back. Red irises challenged his yellow ones, clearly annoyed. “You are wasting your time.”

“But he has to know! He orchestrated it all!” The vampire turned its attention back to its prey, fingernails piercing through the neck. Lumiere barely shuddered.

“You are letting your emotions cloud your judgment. He is not the one you want.”

Chest heaving, the vampire let out another scream. His fangs snapped through his neck without another thought.

* * *

With a thud, Lumiere’s body ragged on the floor. What little blood that was left stained the floor as the vampire licked hungrily at the blood staining his fingers. He growled with every lick, pulling his hair to the side to keep out of his eyes when they were clean.

He felt the other vampire move closer, his voice soothing. “Calm yourself. How was the meal?”

“Awful,” the vampire spat. “He tasted like cowardice.”

He heard the vampire softly call his name, gritting his fangs. “Do not call me by that name. I am Liam now.”

“I like your other name better. It accentuates your feminine side.” Liam spun on his heels, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. The authority in the older vampire’s eyes made him relent and avert his gaze. It was the same authority that Liam felt linger in his undead heart and kept his tongue still from lashing out. “Your lead took you nowhere. Now, what will you do?”

“Move on to the next target,” Liam scowled at the corpse near his feet. “How he did not know eludes me. He was their famed leader, their crown jewel of artists. I thought for sure he would be the one to steal my piece.”

“Seems as though an underling made a move without him noticing,” The vampire strode over, ignoring the growing fire from the lantern nearby. “It shall be good practice for your new powers. Humans are so weak, so frail. They walk blindly their entire lives, never knowing of the world just beyond their settlements.”

Liam half-heartedly listened, disappointment and anger weighing heavily in his chest. “I wish to be alone.”

“Fine, go sulk. Know, however, that tonight was still a success. You will find the one who stole your property and seek revenge on all who have wronged you. All thanks to my generous hand.”

Liam kept his mouth shut, allowing the elder vampire to take his wrist and turn him towards him. “Be back at the estate before sunrise.”

“Of course, Leighton.” Liam felt a twinge of fear when the vampire narrowed his eyes.

“I told you how to address me, stubborn boy. Not outside the estate.”

“Of course. Forgive me … master.” His eyes cast downwards when he saw the anger leave the vampire’s eyes. He didn’t resist the tender kiss that came next, his hand given back.

Liam exited through the front door, knowing Leighton would leave the way he came. He cared not for the growing fire inside; he hoped it burned long enough that nothing would survive. Just as he started to walk away a thought overcame him, returning to the house. He produced a knife hidden in his sleeve, tugging on Lumiere’s hair and exposing the bloodied mess he’d made. He left the house for good with Lumiere’s head stuffed in a bloody bag.

Liam pulled his hood back down his face, able to see easily through the gap he left and his newly acquired night vision. It wouldn’t be long before others would smell the smoke, allowing his feet to leave the ground and float quickly down the streets. He still wasn’t used to flying, the sensation both thrilling and an uncomfortable reminder of what he had become.

The transition to the monster world was hard at first but eventually, his mind wrapped around the insanity and called it normal. So long as Leighton held the rights to his free will he was powerless to leave or disobey an order, something that was always felt in his chest. A lingering bond; a nasty chain.

He remembered the horror that went through him when he woke up with fangs and purple skin, cursing the vampire out for cursing him to be undead. All he wanted was death, but even that was too rich. Leighton just laughed at his peculiar skin condition and reassured him that fate meant for this to happen; that he should be happy to be under his care.

Sweet, folly fate. He fucking hated fate.

Having succumbed to his new form and after Leighton stopped him from trying to kill himself multiple times, the only resolution Liam could find in this new life was regaining the one thing that started it all. The only thing he cared about now. That changed his life for the worse.

He slowed when he knew he was far enough away, returning to walking on his feet. Familiar houses lined the streets, letting their owners sleep peacefully, safe and warm. Liam paid little attention until he reached a certain house that was much larger than the rest. He floated upwards towards the top, where a small circular window let the moonlight in.

He carefully opened the window, crawling inside to find the attic still as dusty as ever. The sheets that had been placed over his work were still there, and the jars of paint he’d collected were dried up and unusable.

He wasn’t there.

Liam let out a sigh, pulling his hood down. Why did he keep coming back? Nothing had changed. He wasn’t coming back, so why continue to check? Always he imagined finding him sitting in the corner like nothing was wrong, reluctant and quiet. Waiting for him.

Bitterness welled up in his throat, still left with questions that would never be answered. His voice cracked. “Stupid.”

He left the same way he came in, caring not for appearances anymore and flew through the air. He touched down in an abandoned alleyway, where the only thing in sight was several pears and a tattered mat. The pears scaled from fresh to rotten and full of insects. Liam crouched down beside the mat, his left hand digging into his sleeve to retrieve another fresh pear. He set it down with the other ripe ones.

A pang of sadness rang through him, sitting down and snatching one of the other pears. He looked to one of his fingernails, slicing the skin from the flesh while its juices sprayed his finger.

He had no use for his stomach or his organs anymore. The only sustenance that would keep him alive was fresh blood, so eating was useless to him. Still, he bit into the fruit and silently chewed, staring at the dirtied wall across from him and thought back to simpler times.

He could almost hear the wagon wheels on the stone streets, of people passing by with errands to run and work to be done. His father held his head high; wearing his finest suit as he trailed alongside him dressed his best.

The conversation they had he’d already forgotten. Something pointless about the family business and how he, as the eldest, should follow in his father’s footsteps. As was the family tradition.

“Of course, father,” He recalled himself saying, rather dully he remembered. Becoming a bank owner was never a passion of his, remembering how he crushed the horsehairs of his newest paintbrush in his pocket to try and calm his nerves.

As they stopped to let a horse-drawn carriage by he noticed a figure bent over in one of the narrow alleyways. A tattered and unevenly woven blanket was drawn over the figure, completely shrouding the head, leaving only its blackened hands visible. It looked more like a potato sack than a blanket, with a dirty mat keeping the figure from sitting on the even dirtier stone.

“A negro,” Liam recalled the disdain in his father’s voice upon looking at the figure. “Thinks he can beg for food on this corner? He should stay with his kind on the outskirts.”

His father moved away the moment the path was clear again, leaving him to continue staring. He had never seen one before, eyes fixated on the almost charcoal-black hands. Excitement stirred in his chest along with irrational fear at something new, his heart skipping a beat when the figure seemingly turned to look at him. He hurried after his father.

Taking another bite, Liam’s face puckered and spat out the piece he’d just taken. In his hands was one of the rotten pears and beside him the cores of a few others. He softly growled and let the pear fall to the floor, standing back up and readjusting his hood.

Now wasn’t the time for reminiscing. His hand clutched the bag, a familiar glint in his eyes along with his fangs. Now was the time to send a message.


	6. Flowery Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAah it's been awhile! So sorry I haven't updated in almost two months! My time has been occupied with other projects, but I do still want to write this! Just gotta find the time...
> 
> For now, here's the next chapter! If you like it, please give it a kudo and a comment! It really means a lot to me that people are still reading this story. : ) Enjoy!

Liam used to like tea. Back when hipsters were just starting out it was the go-to drink of choice, as the mainstream society guzzled low-grade and even lower standards coffee. Now, he could care less, as society does what it does best; destroy anything obscure it finds by idolizing it to society.

When they had set up the time Liam made sure he was half an hour late—being on time was for uncool societal rejects—and avoided the line when entering into the bustling shop. He soon located Oz near the back corner surrounded by bookshelves. He was pleasantly surprised to see him, his voice a little higher when Liam sat down. “You made it! Was there a lot of traffic?”

“No, I just didn’t care to come earlier.” Already he could see a well of deep, unsuppressed raw emotion in Oz’s eyes. It put to shame the attempts he tried to recreate it last night, thankful he stopped when he did. There was no way he could match that look, not now at least.

“Oh, well, a text would have been nice then.” Oz half-heartedly chuckled. “I, uh, I thought you weren’t coming.”

“Please, you’ll know when I flake,” He eyed the little saucer and teacup in Oz’s hands. The steam wafting up told him Oz hadn’t waited for long. “What kind did you get?”

“Passionflower,” Oz held the teacup up, taking a small sip. “It’s my favorite. Helps me de-stress.”

“I haven’t tried that one,” Liam racked his brain for all the flavors he’d tried. They all blended together when he’d had so many, yet passion flower was one he hadn’t heard of.

A flash of excitement burst in Oz’s eyes, taking the vampire off guard. It was as if he was anxiously smiling. “Want to try it?”

He eyed the cup again and Oz’s anticipation. When he remembered just where they were he shook his head. “No thanks. We’re here to work on your scare form, remember?”

“A little tea never hurt,” Liam felt slight guilt when Oz’s tone dipped, the excitement squashed and dulled. He almost took back his answer but stood firm instead.

“So tell me everything you do when you need to feed.” That would be the easiest way to start off the conversation. Start with the basics and work their way up to what needs to be fixed.

Oz awkwardly sipped his tea. “Uh … I don’t know? I just kind of find someone and …” He shrugged, eyebrows knitted. “You know?”

Liam frowned. “No, I don’t. That’s why I’m asking you to explain it to me.”

“Right,” Another sip. The awkwardness was thick in the air. Perhaps he was being too hard on Oz, but he couldn’t help if he had nothing to give him. “It’s kind of hard to explain. I usually just have to be in the area where the scare is taking place and I get energized from it.”

“Is it draining if you use your own powers to conduct the scare?”

“Depends,” Oz set his saucer down on the coffee table between them. “It’s kind of like a battery? But not. Seeing as how I am fear I need it to survive, but I can function without it. I guess it’s not an equal portion of scaring to get scared? I don’t know how to explain it.”

Liam nodded his head. “So … you won’t die if you don’t scare anyone.”

“I don’t think I will.” He half-heartedly chuckled. “I haven’t ever been that low before. Usually, I get really sick and I’ll black out. When I wake up I’m usually refreshed, so I guess my body goes into a survival mode or something.”

“And how do you usually scare humans?”

Oz’s shoulders bunched up. “Uh, I sort of just wait for something to happen. Or I’ll stand or sit somewhere or make a small noise. That usually works.”

“Which we’ve seen doesn’t work.” Liam coldly replied.

Oz physically flinched, hiding behind his teacup. “Well … it’s been working for a while …”

“Yet you’ve come to me and begged for my services. I’m sure it isn’t fun living on the edge, constantly feeling unwell if you’re getting so little energy.” Oz didn’t need to say anything; the exhausted look in his eyes was all the answer Liam needed. He coolly smiled. “Well, worry no longer. I’ve taken you under my metaphorical wing, so we’ll start with the basics. Do you need to breathe?”

“Uh, no?” Oz seemed skeptical of the question.

“Great! We’ll skip having to focus on your breathing.” Liam was happy to get that out of the way. “Now, the main thing you need to focus on is confidence and understanding of your abilities. Take me for example.” He fanned his fingers towards himself. “I have been around for hundreds of years. I know exactly what I’m capable of, what I can do and where I lack. I have lived through wars, plagues, monarchies falling and rising, countries end, and new ones begin. I know exactly what I can go up against and one human in his house is more than doable. If your confidence is unwavering, you won’t hesitate to do what needs to be done.”

“Sounds familiar,” Oz murmured under his breath. It piqued Liam’s interests; he didn’t really know how old Oz was. “I guess I’m lacking in the confidence department. Can we work on that?”

“I don’t see why not.” Liam felt an urge to pull out a notepad and pen as if he had become Oz’s therapist. “What about you make you unconfident?”

“I don’t know,” Oz started, then back-tracked when Liam mildly scolded him. “I mean, no one is always confident. Eventually, they have to mess up.”

“True, but that’s different than expressing pride in one’s abilities.” Not that he could say the same thing to an extent, but the spotlight wasn’t on him at the moment and he preferred to keep that part of him hidden away. “Let’s start with a list. Give me three things you’re confident in.”

“Three?” Oz’s phobias held up three fingers to reassure him. His lower eyelid twitched. “Uh, let’s see …”

His voice fell silent; enough so that Liam worried if he’d even give him one. He could have easily pulled his phone out and tuned out until he heard Oz pipe up, but he wanted to get a better look at those eyes. How confusion and confliction danced in them like a married couple; anxiety their ballroom and uncertainty their lights. It transfixed him, made his heart swell at the challenge of just trying to replicate those eyes.

Liam had no idea he leaned out of his seat until that beautiful scene crashed into an awkward, somewhat odd look. “Uh, Liam?”

“Stunning …” Liam drawled, taken out of the moment when shock erupted in those white pearls.

Oz’s blushed madly, voice cracking. “Uh, what?”

Liam would be embarrassed too if someone stared directly at him. That must be why Oz was lighting up like a Christmas tree. Liam dialed back his gaze, a little embarrassed being caught in the act. “I’ve never seen eyes like those before.”

 Sadness seeped into his look, alarming Liam. “Yeah, a lot of people say they look creepy. All glowing in the night and dead. Some even say they look like doll eyes. I guess uh … I guess they’re good at making me scary …”

He meant it as a compliment but clearly, he’d touched a nerve. Liam didn’t understand why he felt so defensive, blurting out. “Clearly whoever said that had no taste or rational bone in their body. Anyone who did—like me—could conclude that your eyes are the most perplexing, the most profound thing about you. They are stunning, entrancing, go—”

He caught his tongue just before he could blurt out the rest, madly blushing. Gorgeous almost got through his lips, clearing his throat to buy him time to save that accident. “—go-getting and admirable. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

He just wanted to see the sadness disappear and return to that artful array of emotion. Not only did he achieve that, but something new blossomed in between them all, something he couldn’t exactly read. Oz’s cheeks brightened and his voice quieted. “W-Wow … you really think so?”

The tips of Liam’s ears warmed, casting a sideways glance. “Er, yes. I never say anything I don’t mean. Unless I’m lying, which I’m not.”

Oz took a long sip of his drink as Liam reeled inside his mind. He should have shut up the second he lost control of his tongue, wondering how he slipped up that badly. Now he’d gone and made the situation uncomfortable; clearly, Oz was awkward about the whole thing. He’d apologize later. For now, he took to mentally beating himself. “I uh … I think your eyes are stunning too …”

Liam stiffened, croaking. “Huh?”

Oz couldn’t lift his eyes up from his cup. “Th-they always look so confident and um … nice …”

Not much of a poet and yet it sounded so sincere it might as well have been the sweetest poetry. Vicky’s picture flashed in Liam’s mind once more, his throat parched as he could only stare at Oz and how good he’d look with his bite marks.

He swallowed, losing track of the situation rapidly. Did Oz always look this edible?

_Stop._

With that simple word, he forced himself to calm down. He sat straight up, his cheeks returning to a normal shade of purple. “Yes, well, thank you. Soon enough you’ll have just as confident of eyes.”

“Y-Yeah,” Even without lips he could see a smile, his phobias swaying and cooing.

“But let’s add that to your list.” Liam had to get the conversation back to safe territory, his smile calm and collected. Just as it always should be. “Your eyes are something to be confident about.”

The rest of the time they spent together was mild-mannered and quiet. Oz compiled a small list of things he was confident in, things he was unsure of, and things he didn’t like about himself, with Liam’s help of course. He didn’t fully comprehend how long they sat there and small talked until a flashing light outside drew him to see nothing but black. Oz checked his phone. “Wow, it’s getting late. I should probably get some homework done.”

They left the shop together, Oz lingering near the door. “I uh, I had a great time. Let’s meet up here again? Tomorrow? I’ll pay for drinks.”

Liam took his keys from his pocket, his chest light. “I don’t need a drink, but I’d be happy to do this again.”

The happiness in Oz’s eyes was almost blinding. “K, great, awesome! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

With a small wave, Oz jogged off down the street, leaving Liam to awkwardly stand there and reciprocate. It wasn’t until he drove home and locked the front door behind him did he let his façade drop and a fuzzy smile form.

He hadn’t felt that content since he’d managed to pick up a box of old, barely known records from a garage sale for less than five dollars. Most of it was utter garbage, but it was his utter garbage.

Thoughts on Oz, Liam excitedly hurried over to his awaiting canvas. Surely he’d have some grasp of how to paint Oz now, he’d spent a lovely afternoon and evening just staring at his gorgeous eyes. He giggled at the added adjective, feeling okay to admit it when no one else was around.

 Perhaps when he’d finished his masterpiece he’d gift it to Oz, on account of letting him study him up close and personal. Surely that would be a gift anyone would want.

Squirting the last of his white paint onto his palette, Liam delicately dipped his paintbrush in and begun anew. Ten minutes later, he jumped up from his seat in sheer madness.

“ _How_ is this so hard?” He screeched into his hands, dropping them with a huff. What attempts he had made were poor, pitiful and dull; they were child’s play compared to what he had witnessed earlier.

He thought back to those eyes again and the growing blush on his cheeks. Not even a week ago Liam could hardly remember Oz’s name, now here he stood, shamefully ready to pop from just the way he looked at him. He shakily opened his mouth. “I _barely_ know him.”

He mainly said it to himself, hoping saying it out loud would somehow bring some clarity to his pure sexual lust. So Oz was really good looking, big deal. He still knew nothing about him and for that his art suffered. No, staring blissfully into them wasn’t enough and it wouldn’t be the reason Liam would fall into a mess of hot, steamy affection. He may be insecure but he was too prideful for that.

Deciding to abandon the project for the night, Liam took to his record player and pulled out an old album he hadn’t listened to in a while. Maybe some music would calm his nerves and straighten things out. Softly, he sat down on his sofa and let the melodies take him wherever they wanted. His scanned his phone but his eyes couldn’t help but linger more on the empty spot right next to him.

Somehow, even with the music, things felt a little quieter.


	7. Spelling It Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, if you like this story please comment and give a kudo!

“I have to say that your opinion is completely wrong.”

Liam half-heartedly nodded his head, his eyes fixated elsewhere then the art he was supposed to be critiquing. They had just finished up their portraits that they’d been working on the last two weeks, which was supposed to be a reflection of how they see themselves using imagery to create the piece. Damien had just brought a flaming bloody knife for his “portrait” and was currently arguing with the teacher as to why his should count and Liam was more than ready to step in and argue that case. Flaming knife or not, that was Damien he was holding and if the teacher couldn’t see that than he was unfit to weigh their grades.

However, his gaze was over at Oz’s piece, where Amira and Vicky stared at it with awkward glances. The poor monster looked like he didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or puke out of sheer nervousness, able to hear him try to awkwardly explain why his canvas was just painted black.

Gods, what a masterpiece.

“Liam?” A snap diverted his attention away and back to Miranda. She stood with her servants at either side, frowning. “Were you even listening to me?”

“Hm, oh yes,” Miranda’s project, on the other hand, was encrusted with jewels and framed in solid gold. In it was just a picture of Miranda, smiling blissfully into the camera as the heavens themselves shone down upon her, accentuating the crown on her head. “As I was saying, this is just a photo of you. Hardly a self-reflection of yourself.”

“Yes it is because I’m in it.” Miranda took slight offense, hand hovering over her heart. “My serfs even put jewels on the frame to show off my family’s fortune!”

“But what does this piece say about _you_?” Liam gestured with a hand to the quaking servants having to hold it up. They looked ready to pass out, hardly concerning him. “All it tells me is your parents are filthy rich and you’re a princess. That says nothing about the soul! It’s so bland and inoffensive, hardly worth my time nor effort to critique.”

“And yours does?” Miranda pointed to his display. His canvas had been stripped bare, leaving nothing but the wooden frame with black paint splattered specifically on the top right and bottom left corner.

Liam cocked an eyebrow. “Your point?”

“There’s nothing there!”

“Oh, Miranda,” Liam felt his usual contempt, going so far as to shake his head. “Someday you’ll understand what true art is.”

“Excuse you?” Miranda scoffed, looking more offended with each passing second. “I’ll have you know that we have an art exhibit of the finest pieces in the world in my castle! I appreciate them every Thursday and know the meaning behind every single one!”

As Miranda continued to argue her case, Liam’s eyes flickered back over to Oz. Amira and Vicky were leaving to go look at Brian’s piece. Miranda sputtered as he left her without even so much as a goodbye. Oz looked practically defeated and spooked when he floated over. “Liam, uh, hey!”

“Absolutely breathtaking …” Liam breathed, eyes glued to Oz’s piece. “The raw emotion! The depth! The small slivers where the canvas shines through, unpainted and just … there! I can’t even begin to comprehend the significance of this piece, the very window to your soul!”

He stared at Oz dumbfounded. “Where have you been hiding this talent?”

“What?” Oz nervously laughed, shaking his hands. “I can’t paint, I can’t even doodle! I uh, I forgot about the project until last night and I uh, did that …”

“Oh.” Liam’s cheeks went bright pink, considering his rant just got the entire class turning their heads in their direction. He saved face, back straightening. “Don’t be so modest! This is no happy accident! I applaud your contribution to the art world and wait eagerly to see what else you come up with next.”

  Bell ringing, Liam turned in his work along with the rest and made his way towards the cafeteria. When he sat down he was alarmed when the seat right next to him was immediately taken. Miranda had both her elbows on the table, her head resting in her hands as her eyes were bright and sparkling. She inhaled deeply, coaxing a wide smile. “You like Oz!”

“What?” Liam’s phone clattered onto the table, hastily picking it up to check for damage.

“Oh my goodness! I never realized how cute you two would be together! Oz is so shy and you’re … well … very talkative and rude! You two would complement each other greatly! When did you start crushing on him?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Liam said through clenched teeth, finding some relief in his undamaged phone.

“Don’t try to hide it! I saw that blush! Everyone did!” Miranda snapped her fingers which ordered her servant to hold out her phone. “I even took a picture of it because it was so rare!”

Liam’s shoulders bunched, his cheeks rosy as he stared at his awkward self talking to Oz. Miranda took her phone without so much as thanks. “I’m sending this to all our friends! They must be supportive of your quest for love!”

Liam gawked, the situation rapidly slipping through his fingers. He tried to save face, upturning his chin. “Fine, see if I care! Which I _don’t_ by the way and that you’re reading too deeply into the situation.”

“The only thing I’m reading is all the messages I’m getting back from our friends!” Miranda chirped. “Ooh, there’s a lot!”

Liam’s resolve faltered, restrain harder to keep. “Still not caring, but you’re dead wrong. So wrong in fact that it’s off-putting and really unflattering.”

“I’m never wrong when it comes to true love!”

“How is this true love?” The teasing smile on Miranda’s lips, however, told him no matter what he said she wouldn’t be convinced. He hid as much as he could behind his phone, pretending to do something productive on it. “… I don’t know why I feel like this. Is it because someone actually wants my input? Or maybe that Oz is the concept of fear and dating a concept would be so niche that I can’t pass the opportunity up?”

“Like I said, it’s true love!” Miranda swooned, her hands tightly woven together as she swayed her body.

“Hardly,” Liam huffed, slightly repulsed with Miranda’s attitude. “I don’t even know what Oz does outside of school for recreation or his favorite music. For all I know he could be so mainstream that it counteracts his mysterious aloof enough that it’s not even worth the risk.”

He physically shuddered at the idea. He’d gouge his eyes out first before dating a normie.

“Then you should go on a date to find out!” Miranda set her phone down. “I could set up the whole thing! A romantic dinner for two at the finest restaurant on this side of the state! Which happens to coincidentally also be in this city!”

“ _I don’t eat food_.” Liam didn’t know how many times he had to say it.

“I don’t either! But I love going there anyway! Just leave it to me!” She gave him a playful wink along with sticking her tongue out. Turning to her serfs, Miranda started making preparations, Liam desperately trying to get his voice in.

“Miranda, _please_ , I don’t want this. I don’t need your help, I’ve gone on plenty of dates before in my lifetime. Are you even listening? Miranda!”

“Bro!” Liam saved his phone from another drop when the cafeteria doors were thrown open. Scott held his arms out, grinning like the idiot he was. “You like Oz? That’s great! I’m totally rooting for you two!”

The phone was crushed in his hands, more alerted to Oz choking on his soup. He nearly swallowed the spoon, eyes wide and bright when looking over at Liam. Their gaze connected for a whole second before Liam exploded into a cloud of mist. He reformed when he entered the last stall in the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it. He winced at the glass embedded in his hand, covering his mouth with his other hand and muffling his scream.

This was not his day; he’d just got done paying off the phone too. So many food pictures he never posted and were forever lost to its inevitable end, the temptation too great to sit on the toilet and weep for the loss of his beautiful baby.

He was going to fucking kill Scott if it was the last thing he’d do. Cliché or not.

“Liam?” He squeaked through his fingers, dropping the remnants of his phone into the toilet. _God._

Oz’s voice came from the other side, sounding out of breath. “Are you in here? Liam?”

He decided to stay quiet; his ego had been destroyed enough. He didn’t need Oz to tell him how much of a creep he was, shame drenching him. How’d he become this much of a mess? This wasn’t like him at all, feeling a wave of nostalgia for something he quickly repressed.

“I uh, I don’t really understand what Scott was going on about but uh …” Liam wished he was anywhere but there, trapped in a stall with Oz just outside the door. His heartbeat was like drums in his twitching ears, both attentive and wishing they were deaf. Any second now the truth would be revealed.

“I uh, I like you too …”

Liam’s heart beat. That was impossible, but whatever he just felt couldn’t be explained otherwise. Red sprouted from the tips of his ears to his cheeks in a quick blur, and his body moved on its own accord. The lock clicked as Liam poked one eye out, noticing Oz staring right at him.

His cheeks were just as red.

“Um …” It was all he could say with his mind on the fritz.

Something in Oz’s eyes changed, holding his arms. “I-I mean, is that too much? I know we really don’t know each other, like, at all, and I’ve been a really big annoyance but uh …”

 Oz wrung the bottom of his cardigan in his hands, his phobias popping up to warble and shake their fists at him. He winced. “You just seem so confident in everything you do and so cool and I’ve totally wanted to tell you for weeks but I never had the courage to say it. Until now. In this bathroom.”

Liam just blinked, his mind trying to catch up to what his ears were hearing. Had he caught some infectious virus and he was currently hallucinating? That was the only way Liam could explain what was happening right in front of him.

His silence only made Oz look extremely uncomfortable. “Wow. Uh, I made this super awkward. I’ll just … go …”

He darted out of the stall faster than he could blink. Halfway out, Liam managed to grab Oz’s wrist with his non-injured hand, catching his attention. His eyes zoned in on where Oz’s mouth should have been, wondering just what he’d taste and feel if his lips were on it.

“ _Um_ …” Liam choked, his mind finally rebooting. He cleared his throat and released the stall door, standing a little straighter. There we go, composure and stability were the keys to keeping a personification together. Now talk. “Do you date?”

Liam just wanted to _die_.

Surprisingly, Oz’s eyes lightened, snorting. “What?”

“Er, sorry,” Liam cleared his throat harder, wondering if he could even salvage what little remained of his identity after this. All pretenses were dropped. “Would you like to go on a date? It’d give us a chance to explore one another’s hobbies and personalities. See if we’re compatible, in a sense.”

If he had control over the situation he would have opened up with that, making sure Oz understood it wouldn’t be a date. Dates were so cliché and mainstream, something he was above. But there was no salvaging his mess and honestly … he was okay with admitting it.

A shine Liam was coming to adore in Oz’s eyes twinkled, nodding his head cutely. “Y-yeah! Yeah! I’d love to!”

His answer brought a long forgotten smile to Liam’s lips, feeling he could start relaxing.

Then the bathroom door burst open. “There you two are! Aw, you’re holding hands!”

Liam flinched and yanked his hand back, staring attentively at his cut one in hopes of diverting the situation. Miranda stood at the entrance with an army of servants. There was a shine to Miranda’s eyes, one that genuinely frightened him. “The reservation is set! We need to go right now if we’re going to make it on time with you looking your absolute perfect!”

He couldn’t get a word in before several servants grabbed at his clothes. He was shoved into a limousine parked right next to the bathroom and a sack thrown over his head. The pungent, chemical smell of the bag had him blacking out.

By the time his head stopped spinning and the sack was taken off he sat at an elegant table in a high-rise restaurant. His hair was brushed behind his ear, utterly shocked as he looked at the tuxedo he was wearing and the multitude of pink band-aids with hearts on his hand. He was stripped clean of his suspenders, feeling slight relief to see he still had his bowtie. He tugged on it insecurely, noticing Miranda sitting a few tables away.

She gave him an insane grin, holding two thumbs up as Liam scowled. He winced when taking off the band-aids and shoving them under the table. “Did you really feel the need to knock me out?”

“Of course! You can’t escape when you’re unconscious!”

This was stupid. He had no time to go on a pretend date, rising up when the doors opened.

Oz was being pushed in with Vicky and Amira doing the pushing, excitedly whispering something in his ear. A sweater vest replaced his usual cardigan and his hair—if one could call it that—was slicked back. He was definitely underdressed of the two, yet it was so simplistic that Liam liked it.

His lips felt as glued together as Vicky’s hands on Oz’s shoulders. She pushed him down into his seat. “Now you two just relax and enjoy your dinner date! Totally ignore us!”

“Yeah, we’ll just be enjoying the food and entertainment.” Amira winked, the two girls leaving. Liam’s eyes followed them over to another table beside the one Brian and Damien sat at, where the two seemed to be having a pleasant conversation. Actually, now that Liam gave a hard stare, it was nothing _but_ his friends and student body in the restaurant.

“What even is this?” Liam spoke up, garnering everyone’s attention. “I specifically insisted I didn’t want this! This is beyond awkward and unappreciated!”

“Boo! Don’t ruin the mood!” Polly yelled with wine in hand.

“Don’t mind us!” Miranda gestured with her left hand. “Please, carry on with your date!”

“Get to fucking!” Liam growled at Damien’s input. He felt exasperated and exhausted, looking to Oz for some help.

He awkwardly smiled through his eyes. “Maybe we should just humor them.”

“I think we’ve humored them enough,” Liam sighed. His phone was a shattered mess at the bottom of a toilet, his own feelings had been flaunted by a werewolf and now when something was going right he was forced to perform for his cohorts in a pretend date. The waiter didn’t even open his mouth before Liam’s gravely tone cut him off. “I want your strongest wine. The entire bottle.”

Oz’s glance was sympathetic. “Water for me.”

“No, please, get the most expensive item on the menu,” Liam’s eyes were directly on Miranda, who was enjoying her little play date. “I’m sure our wealthy beneficiary is paying.”

As the waiter left Oz tapped his hand on the table. Liam resisted the urge to put his head on the table and groan, putting so much weight that it’d spear him through the heart. “So …”

“I’m sorry.” Liam murmured, head reaching its destination point on the clothed table. “This is my fault.”

“No! I don’t mind.” Liam could hardly believe the response, lifting his head to cock his eyebrow. “I mean, it’s super awkward with all our friends around, but I’m not having a bad time. Maybe we can make something nice out of this.”

“Nice?” Liam tasted the word on his mouth. It was weird. Slowly, he lifted his head, thinking more critically. “Hm, normally a date set up by friends ends in disastrous results, but if we don’t make it awkward … then could it be enjoyable?”

“I say we give it a shot.” Oz was already looking over the menu, his eyes pained at the prices. “Maybe rack up a bill while we’re at it.”

Now that he could get behind. He felt his smirk return, his façade returning. How he missed it. “Of course, you’re absolutely right! A date would have been too normal, too _mainstream_ for us. But a pretend date set up by our friends under the pretenses of it being an actual date? It’s so meta that I love it.”

Oz smiled through his eyes, Liam regaining his confidence. “I hope you got a stomach the size of your shadow void, because I think one of everything is a must for a date this abnormal.”

“Think I can get it to go?” Liam heard a small chuckle while Oz’s phobias pointed to several different items on the menu.

His own eyes twinkled. “Why stop there? Why eat at the restaurant when we can just enjoy the atmosphere and box away all the food?  Oh Oz, you’re a monster after my own heart.”

Just as the waiter returned Liam held up a finger. “Ah, stop right there. I’d like your cruddiest Styrofoam to-go cups,” He eyed Oz dangerously. “Hold the straws.”

Oz feigned a gasp. “Living on the edge.”

“It’s what I do best.”

With the waiter scurrying off to fulfill their gargantuan order, it left Liam and Oz plenty of time to talk. He learned that Oz enjoyed the quieter things in life, like listening to rain with a good book and a cup of steaming tea or strolling downtown in the middle of the night just to watch the world buzz around him. There were some things about his taste that Liam found a bit rough on the edges, a little too mainstream, but nothing he couldn’t work with. It just meant that he had a world of obscurity and niche markets to show him.

It excited him more than he liked to admit.

Eventually, though, the stares got to him. What once started out as enjoyable was shifting into uncomfortable when he noticed all the giddy grins. Oz tapped his fork, a pile of plastic bags to his left filled with food. “You think they’re going to let us go?”

“Did The Teardrop Explodes form in the 1980s?” Liam playfully asked. Oz’s dumb stare gave him his answer. “No. No, they didn’t, and I don’t think they’ll let us leave quietly. Not without a show.”

He sipped on the last of his wine, wondering how he’d blown through the bottle so fast. His cold skin felt abnormally warm and his façade was slipping, smiling more often. Even in his tipsy state, he wasn’t going to give his friends what they wanted. Oz leaned over the table, whispering. “I got a plan. I can get us out of here with my shadow realm.”

Liam’s eyebrows rose. He scanned the restaurant, finding multiple spots where they could dash off and be gone in a blink of an eye. The tension must have seeped into the air because Polly shouted. “Are you gonna kiss or what?”

“Yes, a kiss should end the night beautifully!” Miranda chirped. “Go on! Don’t hold back because of us!”

“We see how thirsty you are!”

Liam slammed a fist on the table, yelling back at Damien. “Who’s the thirsty one? You’re all secreting lust!”

“Kiss! Kiss!” Scott started the chant, swelling outwards until the entire restaurant was chanting it. Liam blushed profusely when his hand was taken by Oz’s, giving him a wink. Together, he pulled them underneath the table, Liam hearing the clatter of chairs falling and plastic containers toppling as the cloth fluttered around them.

They sunk into the shadows as if they had jumped into the ocean.

The world around them melted into black, Liam staring in awe as Oz floated downwards, their hands intertwined. His chest felt just as light as him, tugging on Oz to come back up. He seemed confused until Liam’s arms wrapped around his frame, holding him tenderly as he stole his first kiss.

Everything about Oz felt so soft, heart fluttering when he felt lips form and kiss tenderly back. The tips of his toes touched something but their balance was way off. Oz tugged on his jacket, pulling him down onto the invisible floor. He propped himself up on his hands and knees, kissing feverishly at the squirming Oz beneath him.

“Gorgeous,” He breathed, ever-so-thankful he didn’t need to breathe. With lips as tender as his he never wanted to leave. “Absolutely stunning.”

His fangs brushed his neck, Oz shuddering. “ _Liam_.”

Arousal seeped into his mind, polluting it as he kissed his skin. There were too many clothes, hands pulling up Oz’s vest when he felt several presences surround them. He looked up with a gasp to eldritch monstrosities looming over, dripping and gurgling incoherent babblings.

Oz shifted his position and sat up with reassurance in his voice. “It’s okay.”

His words were toward Liam, scowling at the beasts. “Not cool, guys! Go on, find something else to watch!”

The beats guttered something that sounded like an apology, melting into one another until the white outlines gelled into darkness. Liam blinked hard. “What was _that_?”

 “Uh, you know those little guys that pop out of my skin?” Oz’s tone was back to its usual shy self.

Liam’s eyes widened. “That was them?”

“Look different, huh.” Oz off-handedly commented. “We don’t get a lot of visitors here. All they do is complain about how bored they are. Freeloaders.”

The implications were resounding, Liam’s face lighting up. “Are we _inside_ of you?”

“N-No?” Oz stuttered, his own cheeks taking on a bright light. “I mean, I don’t think we are? I never really thought of it like that.”

Liam had so many questions, but it didn’t seem like Oz really understood either just what was going on. Part of him desperately wanted to push Oz back down and bruise his skin with love bites, but onlookers were something Liam was not into. He’d tried it before, it didn’t really stick.

He stood up, helping Oz to his feet. “We should probably call it a night.”

“Oh, alright.” The dejected tone was like a hammer to his heart. Any more affection was too embarrassing, knowing they had an audience.

“Let’s meet up tomorrow. After school at your little teashop. I’ll give you some more pointers on terrifying your victims.”

When he pulled away Oz looked thoroughly flushed. He nodded his head jerkily. “Y-Yeah, sounds great.”

Their fingers intertwined as Oz led him further into the darkness. Every step felt like a heartbeat to Liam, his emotions a tangled mess. Gravity brought down his high when they stepped out of the darkness, ending up on the streets just outside of the restaurant. It was well after dark, cars passing by with bright lights as Liam stepped out onto the sidewalk. Liam would have to get a timer and time just how slow time passed while inside whatever that was.

Oz lingered in the shadows. “I uh, I had a great time. Again.”

Liam smiled with his fangs. “Tonight was lovely. I suggest we find somewhere more private next time.”

Oz’s eyes lit up, trying to cover up his blush. “Oh man …”

It made Liam laugh. One of the few, rare times he did it in public. “Have a wonderful night, Oz.”

“Y-You too.” He slinked back into the shadows, leaving Liam to float off back towards his apartments. His heart gushed with emotion he hadn’t felt in decades, not after his last burnout and he swore relationships were too mainstream for him. Inspiration was riding the coattails of his tuxedo and he would not ignore the call of the muse.

His hand slipped into his pocket to catalog all the ideas brimming in his head when reality crashed back down. He was without a phone. Stopping mid-flight, Liam changed direction and shot off to the nearest phone store. The muse could wait for just a bit longer.


	8. UPDATE: The end

Hey guys.

I got some bad news.

I’ve been at this Monster Prom game for 10 months straight. 10 months of writing every day, planning, editing, figuring out what to do best and if I need more research. 10 months of figuring out characters, creating stories, building up the world of Monstropolis and starting new tales. I told myself that I’d finish these projects I started.

But I can’t.

I had a mental breakdown a couple nights ago where I just couldn’t take the routine and pressure to do good anymore. I had taken on too many stories and the ones I had left to tackle were huge and daunting. I was so afraid of messing up that I started to hide in other stories, hoping I’d get the inspiration back but I never did. Now I realize what I had been doing for almost a year wasn’t healthy and stepped back and thought long and hard about what I needed to do.

In short, I’m putting a stop to all my Monster Prom fanfics. It’s become unhealthy and I wish I could say that I’ll be better after a needed break, but I won’t. And I didn’t want to leave you guys hanging without any response for months on end.

I do have reserve chapters that I can post if you guys are curious to see where I stopped, but once we hit the end of those that’s it. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you guys, my fans, the ending you deserved, but I don’t have it in me to continue.

To everyone that stuck around, thank you. Thank you for reading my work and giving me a chance to entertain you all these months. You’ve been a delight and I’ve cherished every single kudo and comment I’ve been given. You all are amazing.

If you guys do want to see what I had left, let me know. Otherwise, this is the last you’ll hear of me. Once again, thank you for coming this far and I hope you find other stories that you can lose yourself in.


	9. Deciding Encounters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Thanks to all the lovely comments, I'll be releasing the rest of what I have in store for the series. The updates will be sporadic but I hope you come to enjoy what I worked so lovingly on to give you guys a good read. I'd still love to hear your comments and kudos, even if the story goes nowhere. Please, enjoy!
> 
> WARNING: This chapter, in particular, depicts gore and slight torture. For those of you who don't wish to read that, I suggest only reading down until Liam breaks and enters a house. There is slight gore before this but the torture begins there. Read at your own risk.

Finally, the summer rains had come to an end.

Fog lingered through the streets as a young man made his way through the crowds. His normal pressed vest and slacks were replaced with tattered pants and a ripped shirt he’d stolen from the servant’s quarters. A towel had been thrown over his head, hoping his features wouldn’t be recognized by anyone. His father would be enraged if he found him in what was becoming a weekly routine. A man he might have been, but a boy he felt under his watchful gaze. It didn’t help that so many would associate him as one. His features were always so much more delicate and young than his peers.

He slipped away from the open streets and down the grimy alleyways, caring little for the rats that scurried and darted in his way. He stopped near a corner, peeking an eye out.

There he was.

The potato sac foreigner.

He sat like always on his dirty mat, head hanging low as he was right near the edge of the alleyway. Once he was an attraction for kids to throw rocks at and mothers to hurry on by in fright, but now he had become part of the scenery. Many paid little attention to him, and if they did, it was to only throw insults.

He never understood the hate.

Ducking his head back, the man slid down the side of the house he was hiding behind and retrieved his bag from his shoulder. He pulled out pieces of loose-leaf paper, a wooden slab and a small glass jar of ink and his trusty quill. How he loved his quill, it got him through many a sleepless night when he could only think of flowery prose and angst for the life he endured.

Setting the slab in his lap, he placed the paper on top of it and dipped his quill into his ink. He took quick scans of the foreigner to try and grasp a good mental image, quill hasty in its strokes.

The first attempt was soon crumpled as he started again, setting the paper near him. The sketch was decent, not his best, focusing on the black hands that peeked through the veil. He tried to steal another glance only to see the potato sac near inches from his face.

He shrieked, jar cracking when it hit the stone. The slab clattered as his heart pounded. The foreigner leaned around the corner, utterly silent.

“You nearly stopped my heart,” The man filled the void with silence. Guilt ran through his veins, expecting the man to say something or scold him for watching him.

Instead, the foreigner slithered back around the corner, taking silent steps over to its mat. The man watched him sit back down, head angled down. Unmovable.

The man swallowed, shakily grabbing his things and getting up. His feet were cautious when coming over, gently, hesitantly, sitting down next to him. His heart pounded in his chest from being so close, voice timid. “Why do you sit here? A poor man receives more on the outskirts. The only generosity you see here is bruises and anguish.”

The foreigner didn’t reply. The man thought of something. “Do you not speak?”

Ah, that must be it. A language barrier. The foreigner didn’t know any better. The young man’s hands felt itchy, standing up to offer one. If he did not know any better the least he could do was help.

The bag shifted but the foreigner didn’t take his. The man wondered what scars and disfigurement laid beyond the tough cloth to feel the need to hide it. It touched his heart.

“Come on.” The man urged the foreigner to take his hand, but move he did not. When he tried to grab for it the foreigner slithered his arm into his blanket. He heard whispers of a dialect he wasn’t familiar with and the foreigner shifted his weight.

Not knowing what to do, the man sat back down, running his thumb over the surface of his slab. His eyes went to his bag, opening it to see the meal he’d packed for himself. His hand grasped the hearty pear and offered it to the foreigner. “Pear?”

* * *

 

Liam awoke with a start when his coffin rattled violently. He pushed away the lid, sitting up in alarm. No intruders were in his quarters, but another shake of the room told him everything he needed to know.

There was an attack on the estate.

Even with the information in mind, Liam was slow to get up. He took his time getting ready before leaving his torch-lit room for pitch-black halls. Screams bounced off the walls, what once frightened Liam now did nothing for him. When he entered out into the main foyer he saw blood stain nearly everything it touched. Bodies were sprawled and dismembered, Leighton dodging the blade of the last survivor.

“Die, vampire!” The human screamed. Leighton’s hand thrust forward and the human jerked to a stop. Its heart was ripped through the skin, Leighton crushing it in his hands as the body surged forward and fell into the pile of its brethren.

Liam scowled. “Shall I fetch the maids?”

He hid his disdain when Leighton’s pissed eyes connected with his. A shot of panic overcame him. The anger melted away and he stood a little stiffer, heart dropping with a splat. “That won’t be necessary. I shall fetch them myself.”

Liam ascended down the stairs, hand hovering over the rails to keep from soiling his fingers. Every step towards him had his mind screaming to do the exact opposite. “Thrice now this month they have come for you.”

“I know. I have not had this many guests in many moons.” Liam minded his step, making his way over to the doors. A cold chill ran up his spine. “You are leaving?”

“I am off to find that which is mine.” He coldly responded, hood falling over his face.

He stopped at Leighton’s words. “Your humanity will not come back to you. A fool dreams without reason.”

Liam pushed through the doors, the cold night welcoming him. He took off into the night, hood whipping back as he flew towards a nearby forest. His feet didn’t make contact with the ground when he came down, closing his eyes to listen.

Minutes passed before he spoke. “Were you followed?”

A shrub nearby shook, a small, dense figure waddling out. Its plump red body stood out in the dark, tail swishing back and forth. “Ya knowz no one followz me.”

“Hm, yes, I do know that.” Liam’s eyes hardened, grimacing. “I also know that you swore on your dear old mother that the next team you sent would rid me of my problem.”

“Dey died?” The imp seemed shocked.

Liam snarled. “Their corpses painted the walls. Humans! You send humans to try and kill a vampire?”

“My team haz dealt with dragonz an merfolk! Deyz were great!”

Liam snatched the imp by the throat, squeezing with great restraint. “ _Deyz_ are dead. I cannot have another failure, every failed assassination will lead him closer to me!”

“Okayz, okayz!” He loosened his grip, the imp catching itself with its tiny wings. It rubbed its neck sorely. “I bring in da best now. Twice the rate.”

“Twice? You dare ask for twice? After your last three teams failed?” Liam bared his fangs.

The imp wasn’t impressed. “Put the pointy teeth away, pretty boy. Now datz I know what we got iz a big problem, big needz need big compensation.”

He slowly lowered his upper lip, the air around them humming with power. “… You will get your compensation.”

“Greatz! Let’z shake,” The imp held out its hand, Liam glancing at it.

He glared. “Swear on your head.”

“What?” The imp faltered, hand dropping. “Yahz crazy! I ain’t swearing on that!”

“Swear or Satan help me, I will find you and rid you myself.” Liam snarled, holding his own hand up. “Shake on it.”

The imp fluttered nervously before placing their tiny hand in his. The stabbing pain scared him the first time he made a deal with a demon, now his eye only twitched. His index finger bled as the imp looked less enthused than before. “Deal’z made. I’ll get the ol’ team back togetherz. Ya just sit back and let uz take care of yah problem.”

“My condolences to your mother.”

“Yez, yez, she was a dirtbag anywayz.” The imp disappeared into the shrub it crawled out of, leaving Liam to take his leave. He was getting impatient with how long this was taking, hoping his informer would finally be able to do his job. Now, at the very least, if they fail again he’ll have no evidence linking him back to the deals.

Fog was a vampire’s best friend in many ways. It was the perfect cover and it created a nice atmosphere for scaring the living daylights out of anyone Liam wanted. He entered into the fog of the town, landing to walk.

When he started to hear his own footsteps he stopped, staring down at his feet. The familiar sting of Leighton’s words lashed at him, eyes hardening. He continued to walk out of stubbornness.

The house he targeted tonight was scratching the surface of the elites, where houses were spaced out between one another and they had more rooms than just one. He found the right abode quickly when he spotted wooden slabs nailed across a broken window. He smirked, wondering if they liked his gift.

Collecting a handful of fog, Liam held it up to his face and blew it through the cracks. The fog around him multiplied and consumed the inside. Only when he knew it’d reached every crevice did he then get to work ripping the slabs away. His ears twitched when he heard movement on the second floor, no doubt a certain Adam Tommerson hearing his intrusion. Good.

_What was that noise?_

He paused for a moment. A female voice. Adam was known for chasing the dresses of aristocratic women. How he felt about her part in his mad play, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to stop now. He’d been waiting too long for this.

Slipping through the window, Liam embraced the swirling fog, following its master through the house. A maid was unfortunate enough to be awake at the moment he came in, voice ready to scream as his hand reached out at inhumane speeds and rammed her head into the wall. The smell of fresh blood permeated his senses, feeling his deep, insatiable hunger growl at the pit of his stomach. He was always hunger after a nap and the body just laid there for the taking.

He floated on past, keeping his focus on the reason for his visit as he ascended the stairs and followed the sound of pounding hearts. When they were drums in his ears he let the fog roll under the bedroom door, giving it time to permeate the room. Their quivering voices was soothing to his soul, gently knocking the door back to let its creaking announce his presence.

He threw over his hood and floated inside.

“Adam Tommerson …” He kept his voice low and unemotional, destination set for the bed in the middle of the room. There the murderer sat, his chest exposed and naked while the woman next to him was equally nude.

She trembled to keep the bed sheets covering herself, Adam’s voice barely that of a man’s. “Wh-who are you?”

“I am your humble escort to the fiery pits of hell,” He tried to keep his lips from cracking into a smile, enjoying this too much. “Lumiere has already gone ahead. Now it is your turn.”

The shrinking pupils let Liam know that his present had been received in earnest, finally allowing himself to grin. “But there is salvation for those who confess before the reaper. I ask only one thing from you to spare your soul.”

“A-anything!” Adam’s arms seized the woman. “My estate? My gold? Would you wish to have her? Anything you desire!”

“Adam!” The woman cried out, betrayal and fright fighting for her expression.

Liam scowled. “Lumiere was just as pitiful as you. Willing to toss anyone and anything at my feet in a vain attempt to escape his fate. And look where it led him.”

Adam gulped and Liam could see his adam’s apple bob. His throat clenched, swallowing saliva. “Wh-What is it you want?”

Feeling he’s had enough fun, Liam lowered the hood to reveal his face. The utter shock said everything to him. “Where is my painting, Adam? Where is _The Midnight Ride_?”

“You,” Adam started, his voice grounding itself.

Liam gripped the bedposts at the foot of their bed, fangs bared. “ _Me_. Your brethren robbed me of everything that night, and now I will rob you of just the same unless you tell me exactly what you did with my masterpiece.”

“I never touched it!” Adam’s hands were open and bare. “I never saw your painting or know what happened to it! None of us did!”

“Lies!” The wooden orb of the bedpost splintered in his hands, ignoring the pain and seeping blood from his wounds. It only drove his hunger madder. “Lumiere died the way he came; lying and clawing for dear life till the very end. Unless you wish to dance in hell for his majesty, you _will_ answer my question! Where is it?”

“I told you, I never touched it!”

Liam’s growls filled the entire room. No, not another dead end. He was too aggravated from the failed assassination attempt to end it here. He had to have it. He had to. “You wish to play games? I have a game in mind that we shall play.”

His eyes caught the attention of the woman, dousing her in a deep hypnotic lull. “Get up.”

“Diana!” Adam reached for her moving body, Liam’s eyes snapping to him.

“Touch her and I will castrate your filthy cock like the stray you are.”

His hands returned to his sheets, leaving Diana up to Liam’s suggestion. “Fetch us some rope.”

She returned minutes later with several coils, Liam instructing her to do as he did. Together, through the screams of Adam, they tied each of his limbs to the corners of the bed until he could barely struggle. As they worked together Liam couldn’t help but take long glances at her body. She had large perky breasts and an ass that he could see many aristocrats fighting over. He could easily have his way with her … too bad he was _diseased and sick_ , as his father always put it.

Liam’s mood deepened for the worse.

Strung up, Liam moved back to the foot of the bed, slipping out his trusty dagger. He handed it to the woman. “Diana, when I ask you to, you will gleefully and happily cut any part of this man’s body that I choose.”

Already a wicked grin overcame her features, taking the dagger as Adam’s face paled in comparison. “Stop! No! I did nothing wrong!”

“You dare feign innocence?” Liam had to hold back from darting over and biting through his neck at the accusation. “Start with the toes.”

Grabbing a filthy rag from the bathroom, Liam returned only to stuff it down Adam’s throat to keep his screams from giving him a headache. Laughing, Diana set to work doing what she had been told. Ten splats hit the ground, the wooden bedpost trickling with blood.

Liam took the rag back, Adam’s chest heaving as sweat was already forming. “Once more I will ask you; where is my painting?”

“I know nothing!” Adam tried to work through the agonizing pain, his body already going into shock. “Nothing! We never did anything with The Midnight Ride!”

“Your hearing is leaving you,” Liam’s stare was cold and uncaring. “Shame, if only you understood the dire constraints you were in.”

Satanic thoughts plaguing his mind, Liam turned to Diana, sharing in her grin. “A condemned man has no need for pleasure, but take as much as you want when ridding him of his penis. I am positive no one will miss it.”


	10. Chasing Tails

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah so sorry this is so late! Things picked up at work drastically so i've been occupied with that and coming home tired. But wanted to put this chapter out and continue our little story with these two : ). If you like it, please leave a comment and kudo and enjoy!

The sudden alarm of Liam’s new phone going off had the vampire jerk awake. Instead of lavish pillows and a warm comforter around his body, he awoke with his face planted on his easel and uncomfortably bent over his stool.

Liam checked the time and hissed a curse. He’d never slept in this late, still dressed in the tuxedo Miranda forced him into. He zipped back to his bedroom, took a fast shower and floated out trying to tie his bowtie and brush his teeth at the same time. One glance out of his window to the blinding rain had him grabbing his umbrella before he left, slinging his satchel over his shoulder.

He soon came back to deposit his toothbrush in his bathroom and rinse his mouth, checking his fangs with a quick snap of his phone. Pristine and elegant, just as they always were.

Floating back over to the door, he gave his workstation a hard stare. Out of white paint, Liam focused on getting down the shape and form of Oz in the waning hours of the morning. A few practice paintings were placed behind his stool, all varying degrees of bad to worse. A run to the store was a must now, along with getting moisturizer and other necessities he’d been neglecting.

The rain beat hard against his umbrella as he hurried down the streets to the bus stop. The bus was just pulling in when he arrived, being the last to get on and scan the aisles. His normal spot was unclaimed and for a good reason, the last time someone tried to sit there he hounded them the entire day until they relented and gave up his rightful spot. Sitting down, he laid his umbrella under his feet to stare out the window.

Monsters were always so anal about having the front or back, so the middle was just perfect for Liam. It beat sitting on the roof, which he did for a week straight just to prove he could and that it was the ideal spot for any hipster. He got tired of coming to school to then immediately use the bathroom to clean up all the bug splatters, that’s for sure.

Droplets of water formed on the window and ran down with others as Liam felt the bus move, the world around him white noise as he slipped in some earbuds. This was nice. Just him and his music. Yet his eyes glanced to the empty seat beside him that his satchel occupied. No one sat next to Liam and it was mostly his fault for that. Every time someone did try to he’d glare at them hard enough until they left.

He’d still glare at anyone that did try to sit there, but when the bus stopped and he saw Oz scurry in did he do something odd. He moved it into his lap. Oz noticed the gesture, with happiness that started to fill his eyes. He felt just the same when a screech from the back took everything away.

“Ozzie! I saved you a seat!” It was Vicky who shattered the moment. “Unless you’re gonna sit with your new _boyfriend_!”

The entire bus was tuned in to their conversation. Liam hastily put his satchel back in his seat, pretending nothing was going on by hiding behind his phone. He felt bad for leaving Oz to hang, noticing out of the corner of his eye his yellow cardigan walk past. The conversations continued on the bus but he attuned his hearing directly on them.

_Vicky! I almost sat with him if it wasn’t for that! And we’re not dating!_

_Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t help myself._

_You’re so not sorry._

_Hehe. Maybe._

_Besides, I don’t know if Liam likes me like that. I think he’s warming up to me… but dating?_

_But you two kissed! That totally means he has the hots for you and that you should jump that vampire!_

Liam felt his ears burn, tapping his phone harder.

_I-I don’t know. Half the time I don’t even know if he likes me._

_Why do you think Liam’s not into you? You said the date went really well._

_It did. I had so much fun but … I don’t know! I mean, part of me thinks he was just … being nice and not wanting to hurt my feelings. Like I can’t believe this is really happening._

_This is Liam we’re talking about. If he kissed you it’s serious. Don’t overthink it._

“Bro!” Liam briskly turned back to the gruff voice when he was shocked out of his eavesdropping. Scott leaned over his chair, tail hitting the mummy in his seat. “How did your date go?”

Of course, Scott wouldn’t just leave him alone and he couldn’t concentrate knowing his attempts would be futile. He’d done enough eavesdropping anyway. “For your information, it wasn’t a date. It was a pretend date orchestrated by Miranda for her insane desires.”

“Oh. … So how did your pretend date go?” His smile never changed.

Liam angled his phone down, boorishly staring out the window. Everything about his body language had been crafted to exuberate disinterest, but his voice was quiet. “… It was nice.”

“Really? That’s awesome, bro! Just a few more of those and you’ll be holding hands, or, oh, maybe even kiss!”

Liam chuckled, one of the rare moments Scott’s dumb responses being actually funny. His reply was sarcastic. “One can dream.”

 But he knew inside he wasn’t trying to be. Not that Scott would understand the sarcasm. He reflected on the information he’d gathered. Vicky was spot on, but Oz’s lack of confidence was holding him back from seeing it. It was time to do something about that.

Bus stopping, Liam went about his normal day with some hiccups. Lunch was a riot with his so-called-friends pestering and annoying him, asking about everything that happened after they ditched them. Miranda and Polly were the most upset about not seeing their hot make-out, while Damien was slipping his finger between a hole he made the entire lunch. The only one he confided in was Vera after everyone had left him alone, who was supportive of his relationship in the only way she knew possible. Half-hearted, snide comments.

The rain didn’t let up by the time school was done. Liam caught Oz just before he could leave the classroom. One could say he naturally floated over without a care, but he knew how fast he was going to make sure he didn’t miss him. “You ready to go?”

“Together?” Oz asked as if the idea was too far-fetched.

“I don’t see why we wouldn’t. We’re going to the same place.” He unhooked his umbrella’s cane from his wrist. Oz still seemed reluctant but he didn’t voice any complaints.

Unfurling their umbrellas, they left the realm of education back to their outward lives. Liam’s umbrella was larger than him, which meant he never had to run the risk of sticking a body part out at the wrong time and suffering burns. Oz’s umbrella was much smaller and less fancy, with a few raindrops dripping through the cloth.

Liam’s attention lingered on Oz’s umbrella for too long. “Your umbrella is leaking.”

“Y-yeah, I know,” Oz’s shoulders bunched. “I keep telling myself to get a new one but I never get around to it. I’m used to it.”

Giving it a harder stare, Liam noticed that it wasn’t mechanical like almost all umbrellas were today. The pole was made of wood and the wiring was rusted and chipped. The frame would slide down to close instead of collapsing. “How long have you had it?”

“Oh man, awhile.” A few of his phobias popped out to chirp, some patting the sturdy wood. “I think I picked it up somewhere in England?”

“You’ve traveled?”

Oz stuffed one hand into his pocket. “Oh yeah. I don’t think there’s a place I haven’t been to. Then again, the world is pretty big and well, now that I think about it, I haven’t been to Heaven.”

He sadly chuckled. “Don’t think they’ll let me in any way. Not that I’m complaining.”

Once more Liam was enticed to continue the conversation. After all, if Oz was fear itself he must have been around for eons. The stories he could tell were more than tempting, but as Liam was deciding what questions to ask they’d already arrived at the teashop. Oz held open the door for him as he went inside. “I-I’ll get some tea. Why don’t you find us a spot?”

Their normal spot hadn’t been taken yet, so Liam set him and his umbrella down. When Oz came over it was with two saucers and cups in hand, setting the steaming cup next to Liam. He gave the drink a good stare before back to Oz. “I know you didn’t want to, but I bought you some in case you wanted to try it.”

Oz sat down, taking a sip of his tea as Liam continued to stare at his saucer. The gesture was kind, but he’d already stressed his preference on the tea. He should have declined it, especially since they were in the teashop where everyone else was doing the same thing. Instead, he reached down for the petite saucer, blew on its contents and took his own sip.

The flavor, paired with the smell, had Liam daydreaming of grassy fields on a warm summer’s day. Long grass whistled with the gusts of wind and two small children screamed and laughed as they ran through nature. A boy and a girl. A father and mother looked happily at their offspring play in the fields with a picnic basket in hand. A rare, happy memory he still cherished until the bitter pangs of reality set in. They did not sting as much as they did long ago, but the pangs still rang.

“What do you think?” Liam opened eyes he didn’t think he closed, staring at Oz who waited.

“It’s nice,” His outlook felt fresh, taking in their surroundings and Oz. He smiled and looked at him. “This is nice.”

Oz glanced down at his own tea, a faint blush on his cheeks. “I-I think it’s nice too.”

A strong urge to reach out and take Oz’s hand burned in his mind, his conversation from earlier still present in his conscious. Yet even in such a foggy haze of nostalgia Liam wasn’t for public displays of affection and kept his hand to himself. With a few more sips they sat in silence, just enjoying each other’s company and the quiet teashop as the rain poured outside.

It was the most relaxing thing Liam had done in weeks.

Even so, finishing his last sip, Liam didn’t feel exactly right with the situation at hand. He got Oz’s attention when he spoke. “Thank you for the tea, Oz. It was very lovely.”

“You’re welcome,” Oz smiled through his eyes, a look Liam was falling completely for.

He set his saucer down, a knowing smile on his face. “I believe it’s time to continue your lessons.”

“Yeah! Great! I’m ready!” Oz never looked so determined.

Liam chuckled. “Excellent, because your first lesson will be to scare me.”

“What?” Oz squeaked, all of his determination going down the drain. His phobias popped up to murmur incoherent language to one another. “Right now?”

“What better time than the present?” Liam had already gotten out of his chair, checking the time on his phone. “I had errands I needed to run anyways. If you can scare me while I’m shopping then you should have no trouble scaring someone who isn’t expecting it.”

“What about the basics? I’m not even done with my tea …”He stared gloomily into his drink, taking a large sip.

“I’ll give you feedback as we go along.” Finishing his tea, Oz and Liam deposited their cups and went back out into the rain. Downtown was where Liam did his shopping, so the teashop being smack dab in the middle of it was great for him. They passed by brightly lit stores and other monsters who didn’t mind the rain, their first stop on Liam’s list being the hole-in-the-wall art studio.

Before he entered he turned to Oz. “I’ll give you three minutes to browse the store and think of your attack strategy. You don’t have to try and scare me immediately, but I want to see you try your best.”

“Liam, I’m really not sure I can do this.” Oz nervously clutched his umbrella, his phobias seemingly trying to reassure him. “I’m so bad at this …”

“Remember what we spoke about earlier? About boosting your confidence?” Liam eyed the streets there were still a few monsters going about their daily lives. Perhaps one wasn’t so bad… and he had been cute this whole time.

Tilting his umbrella, he shielded them from the streets and dove in for a quiet kiss. Oz stiffened at the gesture until he got with the program, but by then it had ended. Liam felt more frazzled afterward as his chest felt lighter than air. “You’ll do fine. I know you will. Just be yourself.”

It took Oz a moment to recalculate his brain. When that ‘aha’ look pinged in his eyes his body jolted, hand missing the handle several times. “Okay, okay! Yeah! I got this! I can do this!”

“That’s the spirit,” After his sixth try his hand finally found the handle. Just as he opened it and started to walk in Liam spoke. “Oh, and Oz? I’m serious about everything I do.”

Oz’s face broke out into a deep shade of red, his small phobias covering their mouths and swaying back and forth. He scurried into the shop and nearly slammed the door. Meanwhile, Liam reflected inwards as he started the timer on his phone.

What was Oz to him? At first, he was a study, a model for him to work off of. Now he wasn’t so sure if his pretend date was anything to go off of. If this were a story this would be the point where the two love interests decide to date, ensuring more angst and drama in the midst. It would certainly throw a wrench into his plans for prom if they even made it that far, fuzzy feelings surfacing at the idea of a slow dance with Oz alongside friends.

But Liam didn’t know if he was ready for another relationship or if he was ready for the drama and angst. He had no problems being alone, of having to leave friends behind as time continued onwards for eternity. Someone to spend all those long and hard years with though … it was a comforting idea.

He’d have to think on it some more.

Timer going off, Liam reconfigured his priorities and waltzed into the shop. Right now wasn’t about relationships, it was about helping Oz and buying the necessary materials to perfect his masterpiece.

Oz was nowhere to be found in the store, which was a good start. He didn’t know what he’d do if he just found Oz standing somewhere, fidgeting like he’d found him in the human’s house. He turned an aisle, looking at paints when he heard a loud bump and whispered curses. He turned around to find Oz in the aisle with him, holding his shin as his phobias angrily shouted at the shelf.

“It’s in your best interests to go into the confrontation undamaged. I’d suggest getting a better idea of your surroundings before launching into an attack.”

“Right …” Oz groaned, lowering his leg as Liam went back to looking for the right shade of white. Finding the right color, he picked up a few tubes along with some other colors he was running low on. Best to get them now, especially since there was a sale.

A clatter rang out behind, Liam noticing a spilled paint can. He whipped back around in time to see Oz right next to him, hands up in the air. If fears could sweat he’d be drenched, nervously chuckling. “Uh … hi.”

Liam offered him a dull look. “The back? Really?”

He left Oz to go and purchase his materials. Oz stood nearby with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, unable to make eye contact with the cashier as he paid for the mess he’d made afterward.

The next store they went through was a beauty store. It was one of Liam’s personal favorites to stop into; all their products were GMO-free alongside environmentally and animal safe. Again, he gave Oz the same allotted time to set up and again the poor fear messed up in amateur ways.

By the time they reached the record store, Oz had all but given up, trailing behind Liam like a lost puppy. Liam didn’t give him any attention as he perused the clearance section.

“Liam, I’m just not cut out for this,” Oz complained.

“Obviously if this is your attempt.” Liam set one of the albums down, flipping the one he still held back to check the songs.

“I’m not trying! I give up! Can we just go back to the tea shop and maybe you teach me something?”

“There’s no greater teacher than trial and error. You don’t learn by sitting and imagining the situation.” Ah, a song he’d heard on the radio. He set the album back down with slight nausea.

“But you’re too aware! How am I supposed to scare you if you’re anticipating my every move?”

“Expect the unexpected. Think outside the box?” Liam finally turned to dully stare at him. He was to the point of exasperation. “You’ve been doing this all your life. Surely you have some tricks you ca—”

“Hey, Liam!” He spooked at the shrill greeting. Vicky was coming down the other side of the aisle, holding several CD cases in one hand. “Fancy meeting you here!”

Liam put his attention on Vicky, trying not to let his shock show. He took one good look at the famous pop band on the top cover of Vicky’s CD stack and sneered. “Hardly.”

“So? You here by yourself?” Vicky leaned to the side to try and look around him. “Weren’t you out shopping with Oz?”

He casually glanced back to notice Oz disappeared. It was a pleasant surprise, Liam turning back to Vicky. “He’s off practicing.”

Vicky tilted up on her toes to check around the store before lowering herself. She leaned against one of the stacks. “You know he likes you.”

“I do,” Liam, seeing as though all he could do was wait, went back to flipping through the records.

“And you kissed him.”

He hummed in agreement, half-joking. “Is this the part where you threaten me to take good care of him should I toy around with his emotions like some self-centered and abusive lover?”

“No,” Vicky clutched the same record Liam was just picking up. It got him to stare at her, noticing the solemn features on her face. “Oz doesn’t think you like him back. I don’t know if you’re looking for something with him or not but … I’d appreciate it if you helped boost his self-esteem. Not lower it.”

Liam felt his usual frown appear. “No one learns through sugary compliments and plush lies.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to say something nice.” It was rare when he saw Vicky match his own annoyance. “God, Liam. You don’t have to be so hard on everyone and everything. Especially if you like Oz just as much as he does.”

Liam caught his words just before he blurted out, ‘you don’t understand’. What a cliché way to reply. “I am fully aware of all the repercussions and outcomes of my behavior institutes. I’d appreciate it if you got down from your soapbox and headed home. Clearly, you don’t understand our relationship from the momentary glimpse you decided to pry into.”

He rudely snatched the record out of her hand, turning to float off and get some space. He’d put up a mental shield, ready for all the name-calling and insults Vicky would surely throw his way. After all, that’s all she knew what to do. That’s all that society allowed her to do.

“… Who hurt you, Liam?”

He froze, gaze piercing the back wall. “What made you like this?”

He turned back with somewhat fresh eyes, noticing nothing but concern. He hardly opened his lips when something grabbed his ankles and yanked down. He sunk into blackness, his record clattering on echoing ground as his vision turned empty. He only realized what happened when Oz’s beaming face came into view. “Got you!”

His feet touched nothing, grounding himself on the invisible. Oz’s eyes brightened. “You look so shocked! I-I didn’t think I was that good.”

That snapped Liam back into the moment and out of the darkness. He softly smiled. “Not bad. Did you plan Vicky’s arrival as a distraction?”

“I wish I did,” Oz’s voice echoed in the vast emptiness. “But you really think it’s not bad?”

Liam recalled Vicky’s words, deciding to seize the moment and take Oz’s hand. “Course. It can be improved, but for what it’s worth you did well.”

“Th-thanks,” Oz stuttered. The light dimmed in his eyes. “Um, uh …”

Liam felt an inkling of what Oz was going to ask next. ‘What are we?’ Liam still didn’t have the answer, even with the bouts of affection he displayed. It wasn’t the time. “I have an idea.”

“Oh, what?” He ignored the slight hurt in Oz’s tone for being caught off.

“I think you’re ready for the next level of our training. Really, this is a step down in my opinion.”

“That’s even better.” Liam eyed him playfully, Oz shooting one back. “What’s my next mission?”

Liam ran a hand through his hair, patting his bun for just a moment. “You up to grab a drink?”


End file.
